Administrative Assistant
by Cyclone
Summary: Reposted from Spacebattles. Self-insert into Taylor's head with separate powers.
1. Recruitment 1-1

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Recruitment 1.1_

I had no idea what the hell was happening when I woke up. It was cramped and dark, and there was the smell of blood and a few other, less appetizing odors.

Meh. I'd been in more disgusting situations; so long as it isn't too fresh, I can generally handle it. Dissecting a cadaver was a lot worse than this, and I'll never look at roast beef the same way again.

...

I probably shouldn't go into more detail on that.

I took a moment to take stock of my surroundings. It looked like I was in some sort of locker...

Which was absurd. I've yet to see a locker I could physically fit into without dismemberment. I'm not the biggest guy I know, but at six feet, broad-shouldered, and with more than a bit of a paunch, there was no way I could actually be in a locker.

Unless...

I took a moment to take stock of _myself_. And promptly swore vengeance on the ROB or whoever was responsible for this mess.

I was a girl: tall, skinny, and stuffed in a locker. I ran through the possibilities.

Possibility one, I was having a very, very vivid and bizarre dream. Pinch. Nope, not dreaming.

Possibility two, my memories are the result of a long-running delusion, and my waking up here is my return to lucidity. Unlikely, as someone that delusional would probably be in a nice padded room and certainly wouldn't be allowed in a school. Plus, if I concluded this route, I'd go nuts anyway, so that wouldn't be productive.

Possibility three, I'm not crazy, and I've somehow been transplanted into the body of a skinny teenage girl stuffed in a locker.

Possibility four, same as three, except into another world. Like a self-insert 'fic. I don't know many settings with a teenage girl stuck in a locker, which meant it was either something I wasn't familiar with, or...

I was Taylor fucking Hebert.

Goddamn it.

If I was going to be an insert 'fic, why not one for a setting I actually _know?_

Granted, I've binged on a _lot_ of fanfiction, but I never did get around to reading the canon storyline.

Okay, so if I was Taylor Hebert, that means this is the infamous locker incident, which precipitated her spending something like a week in the hospital for... reasons I'm not entirely clear on, actually, at least not for canon. Hmm. But more importantly, this was also her trigger, so I should have bug control powers.

...

How did those work again? Crap.

After a brief debate on how to try accessing her - my, I guess - powers, I tried just closing my eyes and mentally reaching ou-

That was not a bug.

It was a glow, a burning white star in the darkness, but as I looked closer, I realized it was more than that. It was a complex ideogram - I think that's the right word - that spun and whirled in three dimensions. There were multiple facets to it, and somehow... I could read it.

Darkness/Mobility/Defense.

It didn't take long for me to realize what it was. This was Sophia Hess's - Shadow Stalker's - power, or a representation of it, at least. But seeing powers was pretty crappy as powers go. Could I steal it? Change it?

With a mental hand, I reached out, and a rush of incomprehensible information rushed through my head.

I looked down at myself. My own whirling shard was moving too fast to see clearly, but through the blur, the image of Sophia's shard began to take shape within its blurred outline.

No, I couldn't steal it. I couldn't change it. But apparently, I could _copy_ it.

Abruptly, I sensed something else, at the back of my mind. Another presence. The copy of Sophia's shard? No. This felt different. Shoving that thought aside, I considered my options.

I knew about the trio. Madison Clements. Emma Barnes, Taylor's best friend until her mind was twisted by the most idiotic predator/prey mindset I have ever seen. And the real ringleader, Sophia Hess. Shadow Stalker. Ward (probationary?). Emma's father was a lawyer, and Sophia was a Ward, both things which likely contributed to the school letting those three have a free hand. None of the other students ever stepped forward, probably for fear of drawing their ire.

I had seen _that_ pattern far too often myself.

A part of me wondered how short-sighted the school was. Did they not realize that failure to enforce discipline only encouraged further abuse? Did they really think the PRT would thank them for sweeping things under the rug and trying to cover things up without even trying to correct the problem until something blew up?

Well, maybe it was time something blew up on them.

I thought back, pondering. If I have a copy of Shadow Stalker's power now, I could leave the locker... and get back in it. A plan began percolating in my mind. All I needed was a phone connected to the school landline, something which I could use discreetly without anyone stumbling across me.

A hazy thought swam toward the forefront of my mind. The basement. Well, that would work.

Wait, how did I know that?

I tried accessing the copied power, tried to turn into an insubstantial shadow.

Nothing happened.

I frowned and tried again, thinking of where I needed to-

Whoa. That was a rush.

I looked around again. Wherever I was, none of the lights were on, but there were windows on one wall along the ceiling. And I was standing in the shadow of what looked like a boiler. The basement. It had to be.

So, shadow teleportation. That's unexpected.

A small smile creeped across my face as I spotted the phone.

911.

"Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?"

"Oh, God, I can't believe they did that," I whimpered softly, disguising my voice, adding a hint of New York to my accent, and throwing in a good dose of fear.

"Ma'am, what happened?"

"They stuffed that Herbert girl in the locker," I answered. "The three of them, Sophia, Emma, and Madison. I just... someone has to get her out of there before it's too late, but I don't want them to know it was me. We're all just too scared of them..."

"Scared of who, ma'am?"

"Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Madison Clements," I said. "I-I've got to go."

I hung up.

Satisfied, I returned to the shadows and teleported back to Taylor's - my - locker. Then I shifted my position and tried to get some sleep.

Ultimately, they would find me when they found me.

Little did I know I would not be the one waking up when they did.

* * *

When I woke up, I could hear it. A voice, mumbling at the back of my mind, asking - _begging_ \- to _make it stop makeitstopMAKEITSTOP!_

This, I decided, was probably a bad sign. I took stock of my situation. I appeared to be in a hospital bed. Well, that was no surprise. I vaguely recalled Taylor had wound up in the hospital for a time after the locker incident.

 _...makeitstop..._

Unfortunately, what I actually knew of the hospital stay itself was... well... pretty much nil. The stuff in the locker almost certainly included some risk of infection - Silencio even made it a plot point - but there were others suggesting it was... from... sensory... overload...

 _...makeitstop..._

I'm an idiot.

 _Taylor?_ I prodded hesitantly.

 _MAKE IT STOP!_

Clearly, this was going to be a work in progress. Probably better to withdraw until she was lucid again. But before I did that, I closed my eyes and reached out, looking for other sparks of power. I knew Panacea - volunteered? Worked? - at a hospital. Maybe if I'm lucky...

Nope. Damn. Oh, well.

* * *

Poke.

"Wake up."

Poke.

"I know you're in there."

Pokepokepoke.

 _Guh, humma, wha?_

I blinked awake. Then I felt my mouth move: "Stop that."

 _...Taylor?_

I felt my head nodding. That was... creepy. And I suddenly had visions of what would happen if we both tried to control the body at the same time.

Such visions were not pretty, so I carefully pulled back.

 _Can you, maybe, keep it down?_ I asked. _You - we - are already in here for going nuts; I'd appreciate not extending our stay._

"All right," she mumbled. "Who are you, and what are you doing _in my head?_ "

 _Call me..._ I hesitated, _call me... Miller. 'Cause I_ know _stuff. As for what I'm doing in here, your guess is as good as mine. I blame ROB._

"Who the hell is Rob?"

 _Random Omnipotent Being,_ I clarified. _I..._ I hesitated. _Like I said, Taylor, I know stuff. And I want to help._

"How do I know I can trust you?"

 _How about the fact that I'm stuck here, so anything that happens to you also happens to me. And I'm very much not fond of pain?_

"It's a start."


	2. Recruitment 1-2

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Recruitment 1.2_

When I next woke up, it was due to the presence of a parahuman. I could sense the shard approaching, moving at a brisk walk, so probably not a patient. Figuring it was likely Panacea, I reached out to and copied it as quickly as possible.

Guardian/Vigilance.

I was pretty certain that was _not_ Panacea. Or if there was a way to link "guardian" and "vigilance" to Panacea's biomanipulation, I couldn't figure it out. Whoever it was stopped just outside the room, and I could hear the faint impression of conversation, but nothing distinct.

I had no idea whose power could fit that profile, which worried me. Was there a parahuman keeping an eye on Taylor in canon when she was in the hospital? I didn't know. If not, what did I change that would have caused this?

Hurriedly, I prod Taylor awake.

 _Someone's here,_ I said.

The door opened, and in stepped...

"Miss Militia?" Taylor asked hesitantly.

How did that-? Of course, that made sense now. Miss Militia's primary power was being able to - conjure? Transform? - regardless, it let her have whatever weapon she needed, but she also didn't need to sleep. That made her a perfect sentry. I wondered how that would manifest for us?

I had lost track of the conversation while I was trying to sort out what her shard meant, but there was still the puzzle of why she was visiting Taylor Hebert.

"-and if you _have_ triggered... well, we like to touch base with newly triggered parahumans whenever possible. The Wards program provides excellent resources for a recently-triggered minor."

What, what? The PRT knew Taylor had triggered? No, wait, based on her words, they only suspected. Still, how? Well, okay, her "make it stop," I guess, did suggest some sort of parahuman ability, if they ruled out psychosis, but why hadn't they picked up on that in canon? The only thing I did involving the PRT was...

"Sophia."

Miss Militia froze.

...crap. I said that out loud, didn't I?

I closed my - Taylor's - eyes, and pulled back again. Well, in for a penny...

 _Sophia Hess is Shadow Stalker,_ I glumly informed Taylor. _If it helps, odds are, the school was covering up what was happening even from the PRT. They're too sensitive about PR to have willingly let it get this far._

"Miss Hess will be dealt with," Miss Militia assured us, "as will Miss Barnes and Miss Clements. Moreover, with the media attention, thanks to an anonymous nine-one-one call, the staff at Winslow is undergoing a very thorough review."

There was a little guilt and _more_ than a little satisfaction in her voice. Good.

"I... I need to think about this," Taylor said. "I'm not even sure if I have powers."

Miss Militia nodded. "That's understandable. The PRT can help you find out, no charge. We could even arrange for an MRI to check before you're discharged. Just give us a call."

"I will."

There was a little chit-chat after that, but after Miss Militia left, we both breathed a sigh of relief.

"So," Taylor said, "what was that about 'canon'?"

 _Fuck._

* * *

My name is Taylor Hebert, and I am insane.

My life has been pretty crappy ever since my best friend, Emma Barnes, turned on me. I now have an idea why, but I'm not sure how reliable my source is.

For... well... pretty practical reasons, I'd say.

In the end, the bullying culminated in me getting shoved in my locker... along with a rather ripe collection of used tampons and other disgusting items.

Miss Militia said the PRT thinks I triggered, that I'm a parahuman now.

I think she's right. I can still feel them, hundreds of them, thousands, even in a hospital, at the edge of my consciousness. But that's not all I can feel.

I can also feel her. Him? It? Another presence, in my mind. It _knows_ stuff, stuff _I_ didn't know. Miss Militia all but confirmed what the voice in my head - Miller - said about Sophia, something I never would have guessed.

Or would I? It did explain a lot.

Miller told me my life was a story where she (he?) came from, one which Miller never actually read, only derivative works. That I was the star of that story. That I would try to be hero but end up becoming a villain, going undercover and becoming the mask.

That, in the end, I save the world. Somehow.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm crazy. I need help, but... can I trust the PRT? After what they enabled?

 _I'll help you, Taylor._

Yay. Help from the figment of my imagination that obviously stems from some subconscious delusions of grandeur.

 _Hey!_

* * *

I honestly wasn't sure what we were going to do.

At this point, joining the Wards was out. Taylor wouldn't stand for it, not after learning about Sophia, and I can only imagine the bureaucratic red tape we would have to put up with if we did sign up.

Besides, that would also shut down any opportunity to link up with the Undersiders and, to a lesser degree, New Wave. Tattletale may get on my nerves - I freely admit it's because she would see through my bullshit, and I hate not being the smartest person in the room; no one's allowed to be smug except me, damn it - but I had a better feel for the Undersiders than anyone else.

Moreover, I _wanted_ Tattletale's power.

Of course, there was one downside: Not joining the Wards meant we wouldn't get close enough for me to copy to all those glorious, glorious powers. Speaking of which, I probably should discuss the whole "power copying" thing with Taylor.

Eh, it can wait.

At the moment, we had just gotten back to the Hebert house - _home_ \- after being released from the hospital. Danny - _Dad_ \- gave us a hug.

"I'll get started on dinner."

"Okay, Dad," Taylor said before heading for her - _our_ \- room. Closing the door behind us and plunking us down on the bed, she said, "Okay, Miller. We need to talk."

 _Agreed,_ I replied.

"What should I do now?"

I shrugged. She scowled.

 _Sorry,_ I apologized. _Still not used to this whole "sharing a body" thing._

There was a long moment of silence.

 _Oh, right. Your question. Umm. Well, what do you_ want _to do? You've got superpowers now, kiddo._

"Some superpower." She snorted. "I control bugs."

 _Great for recon, once you get past that sensory problem that had us laid up for so long,_ I pointed out. _And bug control can be pretty useful. You could work pest control. It's low risk, low effort, and I'm sure you could make a pretty decent income._

She shook her - _our_ \- head. "Nice idea," she said, "but I want to do more. I want to make a _difference_."

 _Well, the villain route wouldn't be too hard,_ I continued. She'd made her opinion on that pretty clear when I first sketched out what had happened in canon, but I pressed on. _Bug control's already pretty thematic on that, and it doesn't exactly give us a lot of non-lethal combat options, anyway. We could probably link up with the group you joined in that other world, the Undersiders. They're a smash and grab team. No drugs, no kidnapping, no torture, no murder._

"I don't want to be a villain," she said quietly. "I want to be a hero."

 _You sure?_ I prodded. _In a world that calls someone like Sophia a hero, would being a villain be so bad?_

"I want to make this city _better_."

 _You_ can _do that as a villain._

"I'm going to be a hero," she said stub- ah, _firmly_. "Are you going to help me or keep trying to change my mind?"

 _I just want to be sure you're really committed to this,_ I answered gently. _It's not going to be easy. In fact, it's probably the hardest course you could take._

"If being a hero were easy, the world would have more heroes," she said. "Enough that we wouldn't have to settle for people like Sophia. I'm going to remind the world what a _real_ hero should be like."


	3. Interlude 1A - PRT

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Interlude 1A - PRT_

Agent Charles O'Hanrahan was boiling with fury as he stalked through the halls of Winslow High School. His partner, Ken Grady, forced himself to stay calm and consider this clusterfuck objectively.

And it most definitely was a Grade A clusterfuck.

The students had been hesitant at first to talk to them... until they learned that an anonymous tip had named names. At that point, several students became very cooperative, on condition of anonymity... and the names matched up, every time.

Madison Clement. Emma Barnes. And the most damning of all, the one which had even brought the two PRT agents there to begin with: Sophia Hess.

Ken understood why Chuck was pissed. He had a daughter who bore a passing resemblance to the Hebert girl; Patty went to Arcadia, but it still hit close to home. Ken, on the other hand, had less visceral concerns on the matter: If Hess's involvement in this and status as a Ward went public, it would be a complete PR disaster for the PRT.

He shook his thoughts off and stopped Chuck from barging into Principal Blackwell's office. Chuck looked at him, and he met his gaze. Silently, Chuck acceded, and Ken took point.

The principal visibly restrained herself from reacting.

"Can I help you, Detectives?"

Chuck closed the door behind them, sealing them in the office.

"We're not detectives, Ms. Blackwell," Ken said. "I'm Agent Grady. This is my partner, Agent O'Hanrahan. We're with the PRT."

She frowned. "I was unaware the PRT had an interest in the Hebert case."

"Considering who was named in the nine-one-one call, you bet we're interested," Chuck snarled. He slammed his file on her desk, copies of testimonies from both students and teachers. "You want to explain why you've been violating Wards procedure?"

She roes to her feet. "I beg your pardon? Your precious PRT made it clear we were to give Miss Hess a certain amount of latitude."

"Those provisions specify that they apply to attendance and scheduling concerns," Ken pointed out. "They also stipulate that you are required to notify the PRT of _any_ disciplinary concerns outside those areas."

"Instead," Chuck continued, "we find you've been covering up a systematic campaign of bullying since even _before_ she joined the Wards program."

Ms. Blackwell went very, very still.

Suddenly, it all became clear to Ken. He placed a hand on his partner's shoulder and pulled him back, taking the lead.

"You knew, didn't you?" It wasn't a question. "You knew her identity before she ever joined the Wards program."

"I had my suspicions," Ms. Blackwell allowed, "but this isn't Arcadia, gentlemen. The ABB and Empire are all but openly recruiting on school grounds. Even with the additional Wards funding, I have neither the budget nor the manpower to clean this school up, and you think I have the resources to worry about _bullying?_ She was making a difference before she ever joined your precious Wards."

Chuck just shook his head slowly. "I hope that helps you sleep at night, Ms. Blackwell."

"Had you followed procedure," Ken said with a sigh, "or even just informed us of her past behavior before she joined the Wards, the PRT would have been in a position to properly discipline Miss Hess and prevent it from reaching this point. Now that a student's been hospitalized and an official investigation opened, odds are, the press will be all over this."

"So, what now?" she asked.

"Now," Ken said, "we're going to leave and submit our recommendations to our superiors. We'll turn our evidence over the BBPD, who will then determine whether criminal charges are warranted."

"And the press?"

Chuck shrugged. "Freedom of the press, Ms. Blackwell. There's only so far we can go to limit their coverage. Gotta love those First Amendment rights."

Her eyes widened. "They'll crucify us for this!"

"Not our problem. Don't forget, you're still bound by that non-disclosure agreement regarding Miss Hess's identity, and this behavior predates her entrance into the Wards program. This is all on your head, Ms. Blackwell, yours and your faculty's."

* * *

"We should probably check on the Hebert girl," Chuck said as they climbed into their unmarked car.

"Chuck..."

"Hear me out, Kenny," Chuck protested. "Think of what that girl's been through. You _know_ how triggers work. If she _did_ trigger, this might be our best chance at getting her into the Wards program, get a chance to prove ourselves before the Hess mess sours her."

Ken bit his lip. He was _fairly_ certain Blackwell would keep her mouth shut, and the rest of the faculty didn't know Hess's identity as Shadow Stalker, so there was little risk of it getting out... but Chuck was right.

"All right," he surrendered. "Let's go.

* * *

Ken grimaced as they stood outside the Hebert girl's room. They could hear her screaming about "too much noise" and "too many lights" and for someone to "make it stop."

"Sooo," Chuck said, "either she's gone crazy, or she's a Thinker."

"What's the difference?" Ken snarked. At Chuck's look, he held his hands up. "I kid, I kid. But yeah, sounds like some kind of enhanced perception." He sighed. "Guess we'll have to kick it up the line."

* * *

Director Emily Piggot of the Brockton Bay branch of the Parahuman Response Team watched quietly as Agents O'Hanrahan and Grady finished going over their report. She took a moment to examine the others present. Armsmaster, leader of the Protectorate ENE, sat one chair down from her immediate left. Next to him sat Triumph, recently graduated to the Protectorate and brought in for his familiarity with the local Wards. At the far end of that side of the table was Preston Tierce, PRT Brockton Bay's resident public relations officer. To Piggot's immediate right, one chair down, sat Miss Militia, with Grady and O'Hanrahan to her right.

"We obviously need to discipline her," Armsmaster said, breaking the silence. "A few months on every scut job we can find. House arrest; if she's not in school, keep her on base. I can modify a tracking bracelet to counter her powers."

"No." Triumph threw his copy of the report down in disgust. "We need her gone," the junior Protectorate member declared. "Throw her in juvie, kick her out of the Wards, transfer her, hell, the Birdcage even. I don't care. We can't keep her on the team."

Armsmaster frowned. "She's still a valuable-"

"You don't get it," Triumph said, shaking his head. " _We can't trust her._ When the oth- when the Wards find out about this - and they will - we'd have a riot on our hands. They won't go into a fight with someone like _this_ watching their backs." He sighed. "Look, you brought me in here because I know Sophia, and I know the Wards. Everything up to this locker incident, they can work around; hell, we _did_ , but this? They won't stand for this. Moreover, this is a clear violation of her probation, the penalties for which are clear. We don't follow through, she'll take that as permission to keep going."

That if she did continue such behavior, she would almost certainly end up causing another - possibly worse - public relations fiasco remained unspoken.

Piggot held a hand up and glanced over at Miss Militia. "Miss Militia, do we have any confirmation as to whether Miss Hebert has triggered?"

"I'm fairly certain she has," Miss Militia said. "She's being very cagey about it and declined to submit to an MRI for confirmation, but I believe she's at least a low-level Thinker. Her words as reported by O'Hanrahan and Grady suggest some sort of sensory overload, and when I visited her, she figured out Sophia's identity within minutes, even though we were only discussing the general benefits of the Wards program."

The room went silent at that.

"Recommendations?"

"Like I said," Triumph said, "We need to get her off the team. Even more, now that we know her victim's triggered. This is exactly the sort of thing that could push her to villainy, and the last thing we need is another villain on the streets."

"We could go public with it," Grady ventured hesitantly. "Take this PR problem head-on, play up Winslow's role in keeping us in the dark and make it clear that we will not tolerate this kind of behavior from anyone."

Piggot grimaced at the thought, and Tierce was already shaking his head. "So instead of corrupt, we look incompetent. Next?"

"We could transfer her," Armsmaster suggested. "There are a number of less pleasant postings which are always looking for new transfers, and her violation of her probation would allow us to force the matter. That would provide suitable punishment as outlined by the terms of her probation while retaining her as an available asset and opening a line for recruiting Miss Hebert."

"We'd have to find some way to conceal the connection," Tierce mused aloud. "The school board will be making a clean sweep of Winslow's faculty anyway, so... get the school board to offer an out of court settlement and throw the book at them? Pay off the Heberts, convince them to let the school board handle it? According to our records, she applied to Arcadia a while back; we can expedite the transfer to both sweeten the deal and let the Wards keep an eye on her for recruitment. We can include a clause in the settlement to keep the identities of the perpetrators, victims, and witnesses confidential to justify a gag order on the media."

Director Piggot considered the option. It... could work. There was no way to keep the students from leaking the information, but preventing any official disclosure coupled with the gag order would allow them to deflect the press's attention to the school itself.

Of course, it all depended on how cooperative the Heberts were.

She made a mental note to ensure it was abundantly clear to the school board that leniency toward the perpetrators would _not_ be appreciated.


	4. Recruitment 1-3

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Recruitment 1.3_

Both Heberts stared at the lawyer sitting across from them. Us. Whatever. He was a fairly nondescript gentleman, balding and a little overweight; his suit was a little rumpled, and a thin sheen of sweat was barely visible on his scalp. The joys of public sector salary work. He had given his name as Richard Davison and was here representing the school board, and I couldn't blame them for staring.

Half. A million. Dollars.

The school board was offering an out of court settlement of half a million dollars in exchange for not pressing criminal charges and keeping everyone's names out of the headlines. They had already promised to clean house at Winslow and jumped Taylor to the top of Arcadia's waiting list; she - and I, obviously - would be transferring over with the next wave in March.

Danny had already done some research in preparation for this meeting. The bullying suits and settlements that were large enough to make the news came in at somewhere between a hundred grand and a quarter million, and here, they offering two to five times that much.

The deal was almost too good to be true.

 _This isn't just the school board,_ I realized, consciously passing the thought on to Taylor. _It's probably the PRT, trying to hide the fact that a Ward went off the reservation._

Taylor gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Still, it was a good offer, and we had no more interest in our lives getting plastered in the news than the PRT had in the PR disaster this case represented. It would completely wipe out the mortgage with plenty left over for other expenses.

 _Better not push it,_ I told Taylor. _It's a good deal, and embarrassing the PRT right now would be... inadvisable._

What I'd read of Piggot reminded me of DC's Amanda Waller, and that was both a good and a bad thing. I _did_ know that Coil - Thomas... Carver? Calvin? Something like that - wanted to replace her as Brockton Bay's local PRT Director as part of his scheme to...

...well, I wasn't quite sure what his scheme was, to be honest, except everyone in the fandom seemed to agree that him winning would be a bad thing. Giving him something like this to wave at the PRT's higher ups as an excuse to dismiss Piggot was, I was fairly certain, not in our best interests at this time.

Danny looked over at us. "Taylor?"

"It's all right, Dad," she said. "I think we should accept."

* * *

Our first day back to school was... disconcerting. It seemed Sophia was the one who actually pushed Taylor into the locker and locked her in, so she had been expelled.

Convenient. But not really surprising. Sophia _would_ be the most physically inclined among them.

For their parts, Emma and Madison had received two weeks of in-school suspension and a month of detentions. It would have been nice if they were out of our hair long enough for the transfer to Arcadia to go through, but I was fairly certain we could put up with them for the few weeks between when they got back and when we left, especially with the new faculty watching them like hawks and walking on eggshells around us.

Yeah, the faculty had been gutted by the board investigation. Almost everyone from Principal Blackwell on down were gone, and their replacements were apparently terrified of us.

I'm not used to that. I'm used to getting along well with authority figures, even the ones no one else liked. It was... unsettling.

"What's wrong?" Taylor asked under her breath. She still hadn't quite gotten the hang of just thinking at me yet.

 _We ruined a lot of lives,_ I answered morosely.

"No, we didn't," she muttered darkly. " _They_ did that by participating in this... this corruption. Now that someone finally had the guts to expose them, they're reaping their just rewards."

No, she didn't know I was the one who called 911, and I intended to keep it that way. Mostly on the off-chance someone like Armsmaster with his lie detector might one day ask her about it. Plausible deniability.

We were a little winded when we arrived - we'd just started taking up jogging in the morning - but we recovered quickly.

We kept all our books in our book bag. Despite the changes, Taylor wasn't about to trust her locker... and frankly, neither was I. She wasn't the only one whose locker was messed with in high school, and after the French dressing incident - I never did find out who was responsible for that - I never bothered with lockers again.

And compared to what Taylor had been through, that had been barely an annoyance.

Besides, hefting a heavy book bag should, in theory at least, strengthen some of our muscles, and once you get the hang of it, it makes a decent improvised weapon or shield.

No, I won't go into how I know any of that.

That shouldn't matter though, given BEES! and shadowporting.

Computer Science was interesting. When I went through high school, computer _operations_ barely made it into the curriculum, and I certainly never went through any programming courses. I'd never learned anything more advanced than TI Basic, HTML, and BB Code.

For Taylor, though, this was apparently cake. It was easy enough that she had time to spend browsing the Parahumans Online forums. Not that I disapproved; research was going to be key if we were going to go independent.

The PHO forums were on fire with rumors about Shadow Stalker's impending transfer to an undisclosed location. Speculation abounded, ranging from her being assigned a top secret black ops villain assassination project to the PRT covering up her having been killed.

It was actually rather amusing.

There was one post that speculated that the "locker girl" - name redacted - had triggered and stolen Shadow Stalker's powers, so they were retiring her as useless.

I recognized that 'fic!

Anyway, not much really happened. Taylor was concerned at lunch. It was the first time she dared actually eating in the cafeteria in... a very long time.

We sat alone, and no one looked particularly inclined to join us. Not surprising.

 _Just a couple of months, kiddo._

"I know," she muttered quietly.

The whole experience was... surreal. I've never felt more alone in an academic setting before in my life.

School for the next two weeks pretty much followed the same pattern, but that particular night was also memorable for entirely unrelated reasons.

* * *

 _He's your father, Taylor,_ I argued. _He deserves to know._

We were at the Hebert home, sitting in front of a mirror, and it would be a while before Danny got back from work.

"I don't want to worry him," she said.

 _And he won't worry about you disappearing at odd hours? Waking up in the middle of the night and finding you missing?_ I prodded. _Or when you show up with mysterious injuries you can't explain?_

"What?"

 _Superheroing is a high-risk activity, Taylor,_ I reminded her. _Eventually, someone's going to get a lucky hit on us - we're going to get punched, shot, stabbed,_ something _\- and unless you've got Panacea on speed-dial, that means we'll be coming home hurt when that happens. What do you think your father's going to think if he sees us hiding an injury?_

She frowned at that.

 _We're about to wage war on crime and corruption, Taylor,_ I added, _and wars are won or lost through logistics. The Wards have the PRT to handle that, but we won't. Your dad can get us access to funding, transportation, and other resources. For example, I'd be very surprised if he didn't know someone in the union who could give us a few brawling tips._

She pouted - rather adorably, I thought - and complained, "You don't play fair, do you?"

 _I'm perfectly willing to hear your reasoning,_ I replied blandly. _But let's table that discussion for now. We need to talk about our powers._

She shrugged. "Bug control. What's there to talk about? I can sense things, and offensively, I can have bugs sting, blind, suffocate..." she trailed off. "'Our' powers. You meant something else, didn't you? You have powers, separate from mine?"

I nodded, then paused. _Oh, sorry._

She shook her head. "Don't... don't worry about it. I think I'm getting used to this. But seriously? You have powers? And you didn't think to mention this _earlier?_ "

 _I didn't want to distract you,_ I replied defensively. _You had a lot on your mind._ I paused. _I didn't want to worry you._

Her - _our_ \- eyes narrowed as I threw her own argument back at her. "You _really_ don't play fair."

 _And yet, I'm telling you now._

Yes, I _was_ being insufferably smug.

"You should have told me anyway!"

Reflexively, I opened our mouth, then closed it again. What could I have _possibly_ said in response to that?

We sat in silence for a long moment, until finally, she asked, "So, what kind of powers do you have?"

 _That's a little complicated,_ I answered. _I can see other people's powers and sort of copy them. They don't work exactly the same, but more of a... a reinterpretation. I think. I've only really picked up copies of Sophia's and Miss Militia's. And I can't seem to figure out how to activate Miss Militia's._

"That is so bullshit," she said, shaking our head. "What does Sophia's do?"

 _It lets me teleport us through shadows,_ I answered. _Dunno what the range limit is, but it's still pretty nifty, especially if we want to go the scary, inescapable dark knight route. Which, granted, would fit with the whole bug theme._

There was a long pause, and her - _our_ \- eyes narrowed again.

"How exactly did you find out what it did?"

 _I- umm..._ I hemmed. _I... tested it? You were kind of asleep at the time, so..._

"Oh. My. God. You can control my body while I'm asleep?" she hissed angrily. "And when were you going to mention _that?!_ "

 _...I am so glad you can't hit me right now, you have no idea._

We heard the car pull up outside.

"We're not finished," she promised darkly.

Meep.

A moment later, we stood waiting as Danny closed the door behind him.

"Dad? We need to talk."


	5. Recruitment 1-4

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Recruitment 1.4_

Remember how I said the next two weeks were all pretty much the same as that first day? I was only talking about events at school. In addition to our morning runs, we added self-defense courses every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with some time with one of Danny's dockworker friends on Saturdays, allegedly to protect ourselves if we get accosted during our morning runs.

At night, we worked on our costume. Aesthetically, were still undecided, but from a protection standpoint, we were going with a layer of chitinous shells arranged like scale mail and fixed to a backing of black widow spider silk. Danny had managed to get hold of some ceramic trauma plate inserts we were going to include to cover our chest and back.

We also spent quite a bit of time researching the known parahumans in Brockton Bay, everyone from the E88's elite line-up to the Merchants' trio to Lung and Oni Lee. Apparently, Bakuda either wasn't in town yet or had managed to remain under the radar; given her propensity for explosions, I'd put my money on the former.

If, you know, I _had_ money.

However, our main focus was on the Wards and the junior members of New Wave. Not because we were expecting to fight them, but because I intended to copy their power essences the moment we transferred to Arcadia in March. We were mainly brainstorming how their powers might manifest and how we might be able to make them work together. It didn't hurt to try to be prepared.

Taylor had also taken to staying up late, forcing herself to stay awake until I fell asleep. I really wished there had been something I could do to alleviate her fears, but...

Well, I _was_ the strange voice in her head. Given that I'd read fanfiction of her, I was probably setting off all _sorts_ of creeper vibes.

It was Thursday night before she brought it up again.

"So," she asked, "what have you done with my body while I was asleep?"

 _I only did it the one time, I swear,_ I assured her. _I was testing out the power I'd copied from Sophia._

"I believe you," she said after a long moment. "I can tell you're telling the truth... but I can also tell you're hiding something about that."

 _True,_ I admitted. _But it's something you're better off not knowing, especially if someone like, say, Armsmaster ever asks you about it._

She scowled. "Listen," she said, "I get that you believe that, but I want to know."

 _Okay._

She blinked. "'Okay'? Just like that?"

 _It's your life, Taylor,_ I explained with a mental shrug. _I'm just along for the ride._ Even still, I hesitated.

"Well?"

 _Sorry. When I first woke up, it was in the locker,_ I told her. _You were asleep, unconscious, passed out, whatever; I didn't even know if you were still there, still... alive, for lack of a better word. I messed around, copied Sophia's power, and used it to teleport to the basement._

"You made the nine-one-one call," she said, frowning.

 _I disguised our voice, tried to sound like a random student._

"And then you put us back in," she said flatly.

I couldn't help wincing at that.

"But _why?_ "

 _I wanted to give the system a chance to work,_ I answered. _I knew nothing would happen if I just stayed in there, so I gave it a little... push._

"Not that," she hissed. "Why go back in?"

 _Because I'm not you!_ I snapped. _I'm a thirty-year-old geek in the fifteen-year-old body of the girl who's destined to save at the very least a rather large chunk of the multiverse in just a few years from a cheap AMAZO knockoff._ I sighed. _I went back in because I didn't know what else to do,_ I admitted. _I mean, staying out would have outed me - us - as a cape... and I wasn't ready for that yet._

Neither of us said anything for several minutes.

"I'm sorry."

I blinked. _Huh? Sorry for what?_

"For forgetting you're a person too," she said, her voice so quiet that, if I hadn't been in her head, I wouldn't have heard her.

I didn't really know how to respond to that. For one thing, I wasn't entirely sure I _was_ a person. For all I knew, I could be the psychological manifestation of some really bullshit Thinker power to go along with the Trump aspects.

That possibility was really depressing though.

"Hey!" she snapped. "No existential angst for you!"

 _Yes, ma'am!_

* * *

The next week and a half passed without incident. Even the day Emma and Madison's suspensions ended was only mildly noteworthy.

"You know, Taylor, you don't have to go today," Danny told us. "I can call the school."

"Thanks, Dad, but no," she said, shaking our head. "I'm not going to give them the satisfaction."

"If you're sure."

"I am, Dad."

 _You know, depending on which interpretation is accurate, us having the guts to come in and stand up to them_ would _give Emma satisfaction in the sense that she "helped" you become stronger._

"...shut up."

When we actually got to school, we approached with more than a little trepidation. We needn't have worried. Madison kept to herself, looking rather subdued, but Emma kept glaring at us.

That had me... concerned. Emma was never the physical one - that would have been Sophia, naturally - and I knew from personal experience that verbal abuse tended to get overlooked, even by the most well-intentioned faculty. It was only a matter of time.

Best to be prepared.

* * *

It was the night of February 11 that our routine changed. That was the first Friday night after our costume was finished - well, mostly; there was room for some minor fitting adjustments and cosmetic changes - and Taylor was eager to get to superheroing.

 _We don't even have a cape name yet,_ I pointed out. _Or have you come up with something without telling me?_

Taylor shrugged. "Well, what was I called in that... other?" she asked, waving her hand in the air in a manner clearly meant to represent the canon timeline, which she was still uncomfortable with... not that I blamed her.

 _You were best known as "Skitter,"_ I informed her.

She frowned. "Isn't that kind of... villainous?"

 _You kind of_ were _technically a villain, remember? But I think you went by "Weaver" when you joined the Wards._

"'Weaver'?" She wrinkled her nose. "Any other bright ideas?"

 _I suppose that depends on what kind of hero you really want to be._

"The kind of hero people can look up to," she said. "I know you've been pushing for the whole 'dark avenger' thing, and I know our powers are better suited to that, but... I meant what I said. I want to remind the world what a _real_ hero should be like. I'm not going to do that hiding in the shadows."

She had a point. Plus, hiding in the shadows _was_ Sophia's thing, and while I knew she was strong enough to get over it... the locker incident was still too fresh, too painful for her right now.

 _You really aim high, don't you?_ I mused. _Well, then, if you want us to become a real paragon of virtue, our cape name should reflec-_

"I like that," she interrupted. "Paragon."

I had to admit. It _was_ a good name. Still...

 _No_ way _that name isn't taken._

She pouted.

 _Besides, that's not the only reason we should wait,_ I added. _Be patient, kiddo. I'm only talking another month._

She frowned. "Why another month?"

 _Because starting next month, we'll be going to Arcadia. Who else goes to Arcadia?_

"The Wards," she answered instantaneously. That was obvious. Everyone knew the Wards went to Arcadia.

Which I thought was a stupid way to handle it, given the misdirection opportunities inherent in plugging a different school as the Wards' home turf, but then again, the PRT _was_ working within the limitations of being a government bureaucracy and probably leaked like a sieve.

 _Plus the younger New Wave members._

She nodded pensively as she understood my position. Right now, we had bug control, shadowport, and the unknown power from Miss Militia. Once we got to Arcadia, we could add at least half a dozen more powers to our library.

"On the other hand..." she said. Uh oh.

 _What?_

"Well, if we're going to make the impact we want, our debut should be suitably impressive. Wouldn't it make more sense to look around, get a feel for that side of the city? I mean, at night, we can always shadowport away, right?"

 _...true,_ I acknowledged reluctantly. I sighed. _All right, but we should wear something concealing, a hooded cloak or something. That'll give us a shadow to teleport out from and help conceal the link between this and our future cape identity._

"Deal!"

 _Now to convince your father._

"..."


	6. Recruitment 1-5

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Recruitment 1.5_

"Dad," Taylor said, "I'll be taking every precaution. I'll wear a cloak, stay hidden. I can teleport out if anything goes wrong. I've got my weapon gauntlets."

Yeah. Weapon gauntlets. I... _may_ have had some input there, but the costume's gauntlets, thickened to absorb impacts better, also each contained a stun gun over the knuckles and a pepper spray mounted on the inside wrist, Spider-Man style. If we did end up in a fight, whoever we fought was going to have a very bad day.

Even without BEES! helping us out.

"This is strictly recon so that I can plan properly for when I go out for real."

Aaaand there was the clincher. Minimal danger now for less danger later. His shoulders slumping in defeat merely confirmed it, and he sighed. "All right," he said, "but if you're going, I should be there. I can drive-"

"Dad," she said, "teleporting will be faster and safer."

He sighed again. "Still, wait here. I have something you should take with you." He turned and entered his room. Upon his return, he handed us...

"A cell phone, Dad?" Taylor asked, looking at him, her forehead furrowed in concern. I could tell a great deal remained unspoken, and I could only vaguely recall that there was something involving her mother that made cell phones a Bad Thing in the Hebert household.

Hell if I could remember the details.

Danny nodded and swallowed hard. "I bought two, one for each of us. Prepaid, with cash, so, uh, if you lose it, it can't be traced back to us. I, uh... I programmed each of them with the other's number on speed-dial one. Two and three are for the BBPD and the local PRT hotlines."

Taylor sniffled and launched into a hug.

"Thanks, Dad."

* * *

When we went out, it was in an outfit that looked rather different from what our final costume was planned to look like. The body armor and gauntlets were pretty finalized, but we hadn't gotten around to dyeing any of it, so it was a rather drab grey with brown scale. The hooded cloak we wore was a midnight blue and covered most of it anyway; we wrapped a bandanna around our lower face to hide our identity, mostly because we were still undecided on what our final mask would look like.

From a combat viewpoint, a fully encasing helmet was only sensible. Head injuries were no laughing matter, and we - currently, at least - lacked the so-called Alexandria package that would render a helmet redundant.

But from the viewpoint of what Taylor - _we_ \- wanted to represent, hiding our face was going to make it harder to inspire people.

We posed in front of the mirror.

 _We look like an assassin,_ I commented appreciatively. _Well, a Hollywood assassin, anyway,_ I amended. _It's a good look for you._

"Us," she corrected.

 _Your life, Taylor,_ I reminded her.

She frowned but said nothing. Instead, she turned and stepped into the closet... and we vanished.

* * *

Our first night out was a lot quieter than I would have expected, based on the stories I'd read. The vast majority of them had Taylor inevitably taking on Lung and meeting the Undersiders that first night. Others had her tangle with some E88 capes.

Us? We did a patrol through the seedier side of town, flickering from shadow to shadow as we scouted the area.

And _nothing happened_.

All was quiet in Brockton Bay. If there was any criminal activity beyond loitering or squatting occurring, we didn't see it.

It was a far cry from the wretched hive of scum and villainy I'd been led to expect.

"This _is_ my home you're talking about," Taylor interjected with a scowl.

 _Sorry._

She sighed. "I guess we'd better head back. It _is_ getting late."

And so, our first patrol/recon ended with absolutely nothing of significance occurring.

A scream pierced the night.

...or not.

 _We are_ not _getting in any cape fights!_

"Of course not," Taylor agreed before loping off toward the scream. "We're just doing recon," she reasoned, "and recon means investigating unusual things."

While true, that did not reassure me _at all_.

As we approached, we shadowported to a rooftop overlooking the street, in the shadow of a central air conditioning unit. We creeped out to the edge.

Car, check. Out of state plates, checks. Screaming black woman being physically manhandled out of said car by a pair of skinheads, check. Third skinhead with an AK knock-off, check.

Well, I guess that just confirmed this was Empire territory.

I could sense the plan formulating in Taylor's mind seconds before we implemented it. We shadowported behind the gunman and struck while Taylor swarmed the other two with bugs.

The stun guns we had rigged to the gauntlets sparked against the gunman's back, but he only yelped and turned, swinging the AK around. We must have only grazed his clothing.

Even as I was panicking, Taylor brought our left arm up, palm up, and reached down with the middle finger, giving the gunman a faceful of pepper spray. The AK's report echoed down the street as he stumbled back, clutching the weapon with one hand and his face with the other.

Huh. Must have been a civilian model, set to fire semi-auto only.

Then more bugs were swarming over him, and he had a lot more things to worry about.

 _You're absolutely terrifying, you know that?_

Taylor scowled, then shook it off and approached the woman. "Are you all right?"

"Who- who are you?"

"You can call us Weaver," Taylor said. "Do you have a cell phone?"

"I... yes."

"Then please call the police. We'll make sure no one bothers you until they get here."

"Okay."

At that point, we shadowported back to the rooftop.

 _"Us"?_ I asked. _"We"?_

Taylor blinked, and I could feel our cheeks heat up. "Shut up."

 _And I thought you didn't like "Weaver"?_

"It's just temporary." She shrugged.

* * *

Our next outing was even less exciting than our first, but we saw enough to have a pretty good grasp on what gangs laid claim to which parts of town, which was the main point.

On Monday morning, Taylor was practically on cloud nine as we entered the school, and nothing could ruin her mood.

Not even Emma, who apparently decided today was the day to launch her first verbal salvo.

I honestly didn't catch what she'd said, just the general tone of voice - I was too busy trying to figure out the power we'd copied from Miss Militia - but the venomous tone of her voice was unmistakeable.

Taylor barely even acknowledged her.

I still worried. I knew bullies, and I knew enough about Emma to know she wouldn't stop. She'd keep pushing it until she either got a reaction or ran out of things to push with.

Well, if I could prepare that reaction, I could mitigate the damage...

Taylor discreetly poked herself to get my attention and gave a subtle nod to the computer screen.

"What are you plotting?" she had typed out.

 _Just thinking about how to deal with Emma,_ I answered. _She's not going to stop._

She just shook her head and typed, "No. We can put up with her until we leave. After that, she doesn't matter."

I wished I could be as confident about it as she was.

* * *

It was a week after that first patrol when we met the Undersiders.

For a certain definition of "met," anyway.


	7. Recruitment 1-6

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Recruitment 1.6_

The insults kept coming. Emma had gotten a small coterie together to act as her mouthpieces, but the insults may as well have just been water off a duck's back for all the effect it had on Taylor.

She's stronger than I could ever be.

I'm not normally prone to violence, but I'd have taken a swing at _someone_ by now; it worked in my last life, after all. A few thrown punches, a thrown chair, and a couple of death threats solved my bullying problem for me. In the end, all it had cost me was a few days of out-of-school suspension and a minor mark on my record that the universities ignored in view of my grades.

Maybe it's different for girls.

"What's the matter, Taylor?" Emma asked. "You look upset."

The non sequitur threw me. Was my anger bleeding through enough to be seen? If so, that was probably a bad sign.

"So upset you're going to cry yourself to sleep for a straight week?" she asked.

I could feel our fists clench, but I'd prepared for this. I knew the stupid predator/prey philosophy Sophia had infected Emma with, and I'd spent weeks carefully crafting a speech that would avoid revealing our knowledge while tearing it to shreds, _reminding_ her that such instincts were what drove _lesser_ animals, that humanity had overcome those instincts with trust and cooperation, thus her own betrayal of Taylor proving she was lesser-

Forcing our hands open, Taylor shook her head and muttered, "No."

 _But-_

She turned and walked away. "I'm better than that," she whispered. "Better than _them_."

...

 _Better than me,_ I added.

* * *

We shadowported from rooftop to rooftop, now feeling a lot more confident. We were still limited to either familiar destinations or line of sight, and it was easier to make several short hops rather than a single long teleport - fifty feet took enough out of us that we weren't going to try for longer - but we were getting the hang of it.

Only... we found the latest rooftop occupied.

The imposing figure turned away from the edge of the roof. "You gonna fight me?"

"Not the plan," Taylor replied warily. If necessary, we could 'port behind him and take him down, but...

Why didn't I recognize this guy?

Finally, after several long seconds, he nodded and stepped forward, extended a hand. "Browbeat, independent hero."

 _I've heard the name,_ I assured Taylor. _I think he joins the Wards later._

"Weaver, same," Taylor said, shaking his hand. "What brings you out tonight?" she asked, giving him a surreptitious but appreciative once over.

Gag me with a spoon.

I felt a small frown cross our face, but that was all.

"Stake out," Browbeat answered, nodding at the warehouse across the street. "ABB drug house. Just trying to figure out how many are in there before I go in and pound them."

Taylor nodded. It was a sound plan, especially for a solo hero.

While they were talking, I switched to cape sight and sought out Browbeat's power.

Control/Contact.

Huh. I didn't know what to make of that.

I also took the time to check the drug house. No capes inside.

Wait. Four capes were approaching. They were too far away for me to copy them, but they were clearly on their way to the drug house.

"Get down," Taylor whispered. "We've got incoming."

Once the four capes got close enough, I copied them.

Life/Augment.

Concealment/Suppression.

Electricity/Impulse.

Insight/Perception/Analysis.

Those seemed really familiar. I dared not try activating any of the new powers in a potential combat situation... at least, not unless I got really desperate.

"The Undersiders," Browbeat murmured. "They're going to hit the drug house."

 _You know, the Undersiders are a smash-and-grab team,_ I pointed out. _They're not killers, and they're low on combat power, even if we are outnumbered. Worst they'll do is beat us up and leave us._

"Think we can take 'em?" Browbeat asked.

"Maybe," Taylor said hesitantly. "Never been in a cape fight before, and they do outnumber us."

"Hmm."

It was obvious Browbeat wanted to take them down. It was understandable. The Undersiders were small fry, but they were still a (barely) known cape gang. Bringing them down meant playing in the big leagues.

We watched as the Undersiders made a rather spectacular entrance into the drug house.

We looked at Browbeat. A note of understanding passed between us, and we nodded. He placed a hand to vault over the roof's edge, then paused and looked back at us. "You coming?"

"Master power. If, no, _when_ you see a big swarm of bugs, don't freak out. They'll be on our side."

Browbeat nodded in understanding and vaulted over the roof's edge. We could hear an odd scraping sound, and peering over, we saw him somehow slow his descent with a hand on the wall.

Neat trick.

We stayed and watched from above, and it wasn't long before the Undersiders emerged.

"Hi, I'm Browbeat, and I'll be your arresting hero for the evening. I don't suppose you're willing to come quietly, are you?"

The Undersiders turned, and Grue snorted. "You think you can take us all on?"

"He's not alone," Tattletale warned.

"Hurt!" Bitch ordered, pointing at Browbeat. The three monster dogs charged. Browbeat launched himself to meet the charge, but a twitch from Regent caused him to stumble.

I could sense Taylor concentrating as bugs poured out into the street from every nook and cranny. The instinctive need to help our ally drove the bulk of them toward the dogs, but others moved to box in or attack the Undersiders directly.

Darkness quickly flooded the alley, and I lost all sense of what was going on. I tried my cape sight, but it seemed Grue's darkness worked on that too, which more than a little annoying. Mentally, I chafed. I wanted to _do_ something, but this was the smar-

Guardian/Vigilance.

Suddenly, the power we'd gotten from Miss Militia pulsed. In surprise, I jerked back, and I belatedly heared a gunshot ring out. More gunfire pecked away at the roof edge as we ducked down.

"What happened to 'worst they'll do is beat us up'?"

 _We may have forced their hand,_ I offered, _or maybe they just want us to keep our head down. What's happening?_

"Not sure," she said. "I didn't have a lot of biting or stinging insects, and I don't want to kill them, so I- wait. They're moving. Fast. I think Browbeat's down."

Taylor stuck our head up. The alley was clear.

"Well," Browbeat said. He lay in a shredded heap, but we could already see the wounds closing. "That was embarrassing."

* * *

We traded phone numbers with Browbeat, giving him the number to the burner phone Danny had given us. After that, we agreed we needed to test our new powers. The basement at home would have to do.

Control/Contact.

Browbeat's was the first. He'd given us a brief explanation of his powers: biokinesis and short-range telekinesis. Attempting the former failed miserably, and the latter only worked on contact.

...

We had tactile telekinesis. This had _possibilities_.

Insight/Perception/Analysis.

Next was one of the powers I'd been looking forward to the most, Tattletale's. As I toggled it on, I found myself flooded with ideas, and before I knew it, we were scribbling notes down. After about half an hour, I shut it off.

It was a schematic for a visor-mounted display with multiple vision modes.

 _Oh, come on!_ I thought, annoyed. _One of the most broken Thinker powers ever, and we get a Tinker power instead? That is_ so _not fair._

Grumpily, I tried Grue's power, but Concealment/Suppression remained dormant. Regent's Electricity/Impulse only seemed to build up static in our hands; I had a feeling the result would be more impressive if we touched something.

That left Bitch's.

Life/Augment.

I could feel the power pulse as we activated it, and our body shifted and altered, throwing us briefly off-balance. Taylor made our way to the mirror, and we both gaped at what we saw.

We were... larger. Taller, too. I'd guess we now stood a good six and a half feet tall, and we looked positively ripped. Our, um, "assets" were larger as well.

In short, we looked like She-Hulk, minus the green. Or maybe an Amazon of Themiscyra.

After a long moment, I could only think of one thing to say: _We're going to need a new costume._

She nodded. "Uh huh."


	8. Interlude 1B - Peter

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Interlude 1B - Peter_

Peter Collins never really thought of himself as anything but "American." Not until _that night_ , at least. The fact that one of his grandmothers was a Vietnamese war bride just never seemed relevant. He had more important things to worry about.

Even in a place like Brockton Bay.

Immaculata was a good, Catholic school. A little whitebread, but they didn't tolerate the Empire's nonsense, not on school grounds, and there was a sense of camaraderie that meant Immaculata's students generally stood by each other even out of school, at least against the regular gangbangers.

He even met a girl. Alicia was... amazing, as far as he was concerned. Okay, okay, she was a year younger than him, but she was smart, cute, and funny when she had a mind to be.

He shouldn't have stayed out so late _that night_. There isn't much he remembered about _that night_ , but he remembered thinking that.

He remembered being grabbed, a hood wrapped around his face as his assailants hauled him off his feet.

He remembered trying to fight and calling for help, both to no avail.

He remembered a voice: "You shoulda kept your hands off my sister, you chink bastard."

He remembered being tied to a chair and the hood coming off.

He remembered seeing a dozen E88 gangbangers and one terrified Alicia.

He remembered Alicia being given a choice.

He _didn't_ remember what choice she made.

He remembered thinking what he thought would be his last thoughts: _This wouldn't be happening if I were stronger! If were_ white!

The rest of _that night_ was nothing but flashes.

He woke up with powers after _that night_. He could alter his body, change it, heal himself, and he had some sort of telekinesis. Every impact he felt was blunted; every punch he threw hit harder, exponentially so the stronger he made himself.

For a while, he wasn't sure what to do with them. A week after _that night_ , Alicia dropped out of school. A week after _that night_ , the Empire's latest cape made her debut, an achingly familiar girl with telekinetic powers.

He could have joined the Wards or the Azn Bad Boys. But either one would have meant fighting the Empire... maybe even fighting-

No, he was going to be a _hero_ , and he was going to do it on his terms.

* * *

The newly-named Browbeat wasn't going to hit E88 - he couldn't bring himself to do that, not yet - but he had to start somewhere. His first couple of outings were a bit shaky, though, which was why he was watching an ABB drug house to make sure he didn't bite off more than he could chew when Weaver arrived.

Then four capes arrived to throw a wrench into their plans.

"The Undersiders," Browbeat murmured for Weaver's benefit. He did his research, enough to recognize them - the zombie dogs kind of gave it away - but that was about all. "They're going to hit the drug house."

Browbeat considered the situation. As cape gangs went, the Undersiders were strictly low-profile. Hellhound's dogs were known, and the leader, Grue, had some sort of darkness power, but there was virtually no information on the other two. On the other hand, they were cultivating a rep as "masters of escape," suggesting they lacked confidence in their combat power... and he knew _he_ had plenty of combat power.

"Think we can take 'em?"

It wasn't, precisely, the best plan they had. Browbeat found himself dogpiled - in every sense of the word - and the swarm of insects that attacked Hellhound's monster dogs were as distracting to him as they were to the dogs.

And then darkness blinded him. When his vision cleared, the Undersiders were gone.

"Well," he mused as he lay back and focused his biokinesis to repair the damage. "That was embarrassing."

* * *

Browbeat enjoyed hanging out with Weaver. Sure, it was masks on and cape names only, but that was fine with him, and granted, he _had_ been a little annoyed that she'd stayed on the roof while he got chewed up, but it's not like he could blame her for that, given her power. It was, well, _easier_ having someone he could talk to about cape stuff, and Weaver always had interesting ideas.

"So, have you tried using your telekinesis to stick to walls?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but the strength-to-body-weight ratio is like NASA trying to get something into orbit, and by the time it's strong enough to hold me up, I'm ripping bricks out of the wall. I can still use it to slow my fall if I'm near a wall, though. It's usually how I get down from roof level."

Take where they were right now, on the roof of a warehouse out near the docks. It had simply been easier for him to use his prodigious enhanced strength to jump here from street level.

"That's something, at least," she mused. "Can you lift yourself to fly, maybe?"

"First thing I tried, really," he said, shaking his head. "No dice."

"What about throwing things?"

He paused as he considered it. "What, you mean use my TK to throw things _faster?_ "

"Yeah."

"Hadn't really thought about that," he admitted. "Worth a shot." He looked around and picked up a loose brick. "Let's see what happens." He drew the brick back and hurled it out into the bay.

Crack!

He blinked. "Was that-?"

"I think... yeah, that was a sonic boom."

Browbeat looked down at his hands. "Well, damn."

* * *

When the Simurgh hit Canberra, it was around two in the morning in Brockton Bay, and both Peter Collins and Taylor Hebert (and Miller) were at their respective homes, sound asleep.

Nothing else of relevance happened that night.

* * *

"What's this?" Browbeat asked, peering into the bag.

"Spider silk costume for you. If it needs any adjustments, let us know," Weaver said. "It's our new line of business. We did some research, and we realized we could make a ton of money selling spider silk costumes to heroes."

He frowned. "Selling to heroes? You going rogue?"

Weaver shrugged and smiled apologetically. "After that fight with the Undersiders, it's pretty clear bug control's more suited to a support role."

"You sure?" Browbeat asked. "I mean, yeah, bug control's not that spectacular, but you could really make a difference."

"We know we can," Weaver agreed, "but bug control can make more of a difference this way than patrolling the streets."

"Well... if you're sure," he said, "but stay in touch, will ya?"

"Will do. We still have your number." Weaver paused. "We, um, know another cape who may be looking into the independent hero route. Would it be okay if we gave her your contact info?"

"Sure."


	9. Orientation 2-1

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Orientation 2.1_

Monday, March 7th, 2011.

Also known as our first day at Arcadia.

Taylor was right. After that last jab, Emma had nothing left to attack with, not unless she was willing to escalate to physical assault, and after the ruckus with the locker, very few people would have been stupid enough to cross that line.

At the moment, we were standing with four other girls in the principal's office, and although we were all about the same height, all on the slender side, we looked remarkably different... while still looking similar enough that if one of us _was_ a Ward, it would be hard to determine which one of us it was.

Cape sight indicated none of the other four were parahuman, which raised the question as to why they were bothering. Was this just standard procedure here?

Actually, come to think of it, it probably was. Arcadia seemed to operate by different rules than a public school like Winslow; the minimum grade cut-off was just one example.

"Now, as always, whenever we get new transfers, there is the possibility one of you may be a Ward."

That was Principal Roberts. He was a short, fair-haired man with a ready and warm smile on his face. As he spoke, he moved with a quickness that suggested a very, um, _energetic_ personality.

Taylor already didn't like him.

 _Can you blame me? He reminds me of Mr. Gladly._

 _Ehh, seems more like a Flutie type to me._

 _Who?_

 _Never mind._

Though it did bring up an amusing thought. I briefly wondered what Snyder would have done in Blackwell's place. _He_ certainly never let a little thing like "lack of evidence" get in his way.

"To help protect the Wards' identities, Arcadia operates shorter hours, so our curriculum expects a certain amount of self-study on your own time."

Principal Roberts had paused to hand each of us a bag labeled with our names.

"Inside, you will find your schedule, a copy of the student handbook, a map of the grounds, and a PRT phone. You will keep your assigned phone on you and set to vibrate at all times while you are on school grounds, and yes, they will get signal. These phones are PRT property; if you lose or damage it, you will be fined and issued a replacement. You may use them both in school and out of school for personal purposes, but be advised that all calls and texts are recorded and may be monitored for security reasons.

"If the Wards' presence is needed during school hours, you may be called out of class even if you are not a Ward. If this happens, you will be escorted to an individual study hall with remote video access to your classroom."

He leaned back against his desk, arms folded.

"Welcome to Arcadia, ladies."

* * *

As we left Principal Roberts's office, one of our fellow new students nudged our elbow.

"Hey, I'm Stella. Just moved here from Jersey. You?"

"Taylor. Transferred from Winslow."

"Huh," Stella mused aloud. "Wait, wasn't Winslow in the news a couple of months ago? Something... about..." she trailed off as she noticed the annoyed look on our face. "Oh. Ohhh. Sorry. Sorry, I didn't realize-"

Taylor rolled our eyes and sighed. "Can we... not talk about it?"

Yes, the locker fiasco did, in fact, make national news. Well, it got mentions on several cable news tickers and a few minutes of some talking heads discussing how this clearly showed what was wrong with the country and how, if they had _their_ way, it would never have happened. Thankfully, the gag order stuck, so no names were named.

Damn vultures.

"Sure, sure," Stella agreed eagerly, nodding.

"So, what brings you to the Bay?"

Stella shrugged. "Dad's in the PRT; his squad got transferred here, and so, I came with." She paused, then asked, "Say, you think one of the others is a new Ward?"

We shrugged. "Um, why would you think that?"

"Well," Stella replied, "Shadow Stalker just got transferred to the Madison Exclusion Zone, but the Bay is cape central. They wouldn't send her away without good reason, so I'm figuring they got a new recruit who hasn't debuted yet."

"That's... an interesting theory," Taylor stammered, "but, um, I'm sure we'll find out if there is a new Ward soon enough."

Stella frowned. "You're no fun."

"Isn't that kind of speculation dangerous anyway? I mean, what if you actually figured out someone's identity? Wouldn't someone come after you for it?"

Stella waved it off.

"You'd think so, but capes don't like poking into each other's secret identities. Kind of an unwritten rule."

"If you say so."

"Well, off to class! Later, Tay!"

 _That girl has_ way _too much energy,_ I observed.

Taylor just nodded, and we headed for our first class.

* * *

I can safely say that neither Taylor nor I had so many people actively trying to make friends with us in either of our lives as we did that morning.

What soured the experience a little was the fact that the friendliest of the overtures were from Wards. It didn't take much to correlate between what our cape sight showed us and the names I remembered reading in my past life: Chris and Dennis.

Insight/Versatility.

Time/Stasis.

It wasn't that they were bad people either - they weren't - but they were just a little _too_ friendly, a little too eager to make our acquaintance... and, once we paid attention, obviously _not_ as eager to meet the other four new students.

We might not have noticed it if our cape sight hadn't clued us in, but considering the other new students, it was amazingly suspicious.

Stella - our newest friend, apparently - was a couple of inches shorter than m- _us_ and a little bustier, but not by much. She had more of a swimmer's build compared to our stick figure, and dirty blonde hair in a bob cut framed a pair of startling grey eyes.

Maria was a bit shorter than Stella and a touch on the plump side. Raven-black feathered hair, dark eyes, and dusky skin betrayed a lineage that wouldn't be popular with either of Brockton Bay's two major gangs. Despite this, she had quite a chatty personality; more often, _she_ was striking up conversations with anyone who got within five feet of her.

Chris - not Kid Win, obviously; it was short for Christina - was even taller than we were, but with a much curvier figure, golden blonde hair, and blue eyes. Her appearance practically screamed "cheerleader."

Andrea had dark brown hair like ours, but she kept it in a ponytail. She had more of a runner's build, and there was no concealing the muscles packed within her taut frame.

Well, okay, so the Wards avoiding Andrea kinda made sense, given the "back off!" vibes she was giving off. Seriously, the girl seemed to go from "glare" to "death glare."

* * *

We made it about three steps into the cafeteria before Stella latched onto us.

"Awk!"

"Hey, Tay, c'mon! I saved a spot for you."

"Uhh, okay," we mumbled and followed. Our eyes widened as the destination became clear.

Aura/Strength.

Emotion/Change.

Life/Craft.

Projection/Energy/Defender.

Projection/Energy/Artillery.

Sitting at the table were the junior members of New Wave. Plus Gallant. Not that we were supposed to know that last part, obviously.

"Um, hi," we squeaked.

Okay, I'll admit. We were doing a pretty good "deer in the headlights" impression until Stella tugged on our arm again. We ended sitting sandwiched between her and...

"I'm Eric," the blue-haired boy on our right introduced himself. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the blonde girl sitting on the other side of him. "That's my sister, Crystal." He then pointed to the other end of the table, from right to left, "My cousins Amy and Vicky, and Vicky's boyfriend, Dean."

"I-I'm Taylor," I stammered after a moment. Taylor herself was a little too busy having a mental meltdown at the prospect of _eating lunch with New Wave_.

Speaking of which, I realized we had better actually get to the eating. So I ate, and between bites, I found myself sneaking glances at the blonde sitting across from us, which I found kind of odd, as I usually didn't go for the stacked blonde archetype. Well, except for Power Girl, but I firmly believed _everyone_ found Power Girl hot. Then again, I suppose, in a way, Glory Girl _was_ this world's version of Power Girl...

After a few bites, Taylor managed to get herself under control and take over... and I found myself wondering why I'd been staring at Vicky so much. Huh. Must have been her aura.

Dean gave us a peculiar look, long enough to make Vicky give him an unsubtle elbow to the ribs.

"Vicky!"

"I don't share," she growled.

"What?" Dean looked genuinely confused for a long moment. "No! That's not it! It's, umm..." his gaze drifted back to us. Vicky elbowed him again.

It took me a moment to figure out why, and I had to fight off a grin.

 _What's so funny?_ Taylor asked.

 _He's a receptive empath,_ I reminded her. _He probably sensed something weird with our emotions when we switched over. I'm sure New Wave knows who he is, but he can't say anything without outing himself to both us and Stella._ Which, I didn't need to point out, made explaining to his girlfriend why he was staring at the new girl rather difficult.

 _Oh. Ohhh._

Taylor hid a grin behind her food. By this point, Dean was openly scowling at us. And rubbing his side.

Eric nudged us. "You know, Taylor," he said, "usually, we get lots of questions about cape life. It's okay. We're not going to get offended."

"I, um, I guessed that," Taylor said hesitantly. "So I kind of figured you'd be tired of it."

"That's..." Eric twisted and gave us a speculative look, "remarkably considerate. Thanks."

"So," Stella broke in, "anyone want to fill a Jersey girl in on what life's like here in the Bay?"

* * *

That night once again found us in our basement, taking the time to work on our powers. We had done what we could to figure out the Undersider powers, and we were making great strides with Browbeat's. Bug control was a little lower on priority, but at least we could use them to hear, if not see.

Well, Taylor could. I still couldn't touch the bug control powers at all.

But tonight was for figuring out the new powers we'd picked up from Arcadia. Which was proving more difficult than I anticipated.

 _Is something wrong?_ Taylor asked.

 _Yeah,_ I murmured. _It's... well, it's taking me longer to sort through our powers than before._

I was going to have to be more selective about which powers I copied in the future. Now that we had more powers that had to be kept active, we also learned that we had a hard limit. In addition to bug control, we could only keep two powers active at a time; activating a third gave us a steadily growing headache which made controlling any of them difficult at best, and four was right out. Fortunately, the augmentation power we got from Bitch didn't actually need to be maintained constantly, but it wore off after about an hour if we didn't refresh it periodically.

The passive powers we couldn't activate, like the danger sense we got from Miss Militia and _whatever_ it was we got from Grue (seriously, we still didn't know what we'd gotten from Grue. It pulsed at irregular intervals, but always at least a couple of times a day; it was getting irritating) didn't _seem_ any different, so I couldn't tell if they didn't count, or if we actually had four slots (and I just hadn't figured out how to shut them off), or if they _were_ off (and I just couldn't tell).


	10. Orientation 2-2

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Orientation 2.2_

Scion appeared on Earth-Bet in 1982, ten years before the Death of Superman arc would have been published. For obvious reasons, the popularity of the classic superhero comic book lines by DC and Marvel plummeted, and that same lack of market meant imports of said superhero comics from Earth-Aleph were... rare.

This was important to us for one reason: tactile telekinesis. Out of all the powers we'd picked up by this point in time, that one proved the most useful for our purposes, for with my memories of the Kon-El Superboy to give us direction, we were able to figure out how to use it to mimic the so-called Alexandria package: flight, super-strength, invulnerability.

Yes, we tested that last one as carefully and thoroughly as we could.

It was also useful for making certain components of our new costume. The Weaver identity was fine for those early recon runs and our spider silk business - not to mention further protecting our identity if the PRT kept pressing the issue on our civilian side - but it wasn't going to inspire people the way we wanted to.

This one would.

I had seriously considered the classic Power Girl costume. It was simple, distinct, and inspiring. On the other hand, even augmented, we didn't have the cleavage for it, and the mostly white color scheme was just a bit too New Wave-y.

Instead, our new costume was based off the costume of an obscure character I had seen in my old life, in a _Mutants & Masterminds_ sourcebook, and it had taken us a few weeks to make, starting right after the Undersider fight. It consisted mainly of a blue body stocking - including gloves - and a white, waist-length cape, but it was accented by a gold-colored cuirass, shin guards, and bracers. A pair of white leather boots (possibly the most expensive single item in the costume) and a visor completed the ensemble.

The body stocking and gloves were dyed spider silk - with trauma plate inserts both front and back, just in case - while the cuirass, shin guards, and bracers were made of scrap metal Da- Danny had acquired for us. We'd had to prevail upon one of Danny's union contacts to get them cut how we needed them, but after that, we bent them into shape with tactile telekinesis and painted them gold.

The visor was tinkertech, courtesy of the power we had picked up from Tattletale and a visit to a second-hand electronics store and an optometrist. It looked like a simple white domino mask, but it contained a rather extensive sensor suite calibrated to our lens prescription.

All of it was sized to fit the augmented - and most certainly adult - form we got from Bitch's power. As a final touch, we tied our hair back into a ponytail. I had suggested cutting our hair short and adding a wig, but Taylor was vehemently opposed to that idea.

After school on Tuesday, we took a moment to pose in front of the mirror.

 _Is that really us?_ Taylor asked.

 _That's you, all right,_ I confirmed. _Now let's go out there and kick some ass._

* * *

Browbeat looked up as we gently touched down on the abandoned warehouse's roof. It had been a week since we - Weaver, rather - had told him of her decision to retire from hero work not too far from here; we had waited until our new costume was mostly finished first.

He held out a beefy hand. "You must be Paragon."

Yes, as it happened, I had been wrong. Hard as it was to believe, "Paragon" _wasn't_ taken, for whatever reason. Maybe people were worried it would seem like challenging Eidolon, given the similarities between the two words, both in sound and meaning.

Then again, power-wise, we basically _were_ the next Eidolon.

We shook Browbeat's hand. "That would be me. It's a pleasure to meet you, Browbeat."

"Likewise," he said. "Weaver didn't tell me much about you. Alexandria package?"

We nodded.

"We should do a little patrolling," we said. "See how well we work together."

Browbeat nodded. "And if we do, then what? You're obviously leading up to something."

We turned away to look out over the city. "Look at the city, Browbeat. What do you see?"

"This is going to be one of those inspirational speech type things, isn't it?"

Taylor scowled at him while I chuckled inside. With an annoyed huff, Taylor turned fully and leaned back against the low wall ringing the roof, arms folded.

"Okay, fine," she said. "The fact is, Brockton Bay is dying. The ABB and the Empire practically own the city, and whatever they don't bother with, the Merchants claim, and now we've got new gangs like the Undersiders cropping up."

"So... what, you wanna declare war on the gangs?" Browbeat sputtered, staring at us. "No way. I'm _not_ ready for something like that."

We shook our head. "We're _already_ at war, Browbeat, and we're losing. The heroes in this city are stuck in a holding pattern, worried about tipping the balance too much while the city rots out from under us. What we need is a good, solid _victory_."

"Okay," Browbeat said. "I can see that, but do you really think we can pull off something like that?"

"I think we have to try."

He frowned, then nodded slowly.

"Well, if we're going to pull off what you're saying," he mused aloud, "we won't just need to win. We'll need win big and win right out of the starting gate."

"That's the idea," Taylor said. "Make it a clean sweep, take out an entire gang's worth of capes and knock them right out of the running."

"But who?" he asked. "Smaller gangs like the Undersiders don't have any territory we can hit, and the ABB and the Empire are too big for us to take on, too destabilizing even if we pull it off..." he trailed off and met our gaze. "You're talking about hitting the Merchants."

We nodded. "Exactly."

"Is Weaver in?"

We hesitated. "She's willing to provide advance recon."

He smacked his fist into his palm. "Count me in."

* * *

It was _supposed_ to have been a simple patrol, an opportunity for us to get to learn how well we work together, but when heard gunfire, we just had to investigate. What we found was a fight between the ABB and the E88.

We were carrying Browbeat by his armpits, and Taylor had just informed me she had tagged the gang members with bugs when Browbeat said, "Aim for the ABB and drop me!"

We blinked, but nodded, altered our angle of approach, and _heaved_. Browbeat tucked into a roll and crashed right into the ABB thugs even as we turned our attention to the E88. We turned and landed gently in front of them, hands on our hips.

"I don't suppose you're willing to surrender?" Taylor asked politely.

Predictably, the skinheads opened fire.

We tried not to flinch. We really did.

As things stood, though, the bullets bounced off our TTK shield, and none of them actually hit anyone else on the ricochet, so it worked out. As we strode forward, the more intelligent gang members turned and ran...

...before stumbling to a stop at the figure before them.

"Hey," Glory Girl said, "this a private party?"

"By all means," we said, "knock yourself out."

"I'd rather knock _them_ out," Glory Girl quipped.

That most of the E88 thugs decided to charge _us_ when Glory Girl cracked her knuckles said something. I wasn't sure what.

I set that thought aside as Taylor lunged toward the nearest skinhead.

Crunch!

 _Okay,_ I said. _A little less power, next time._

 _Right._

The rest of the fight proved invaluable in helping us gauge just _how much_ TTK strength we needed to apply against squishy normals.

Snap!

We... _may_ have gone a bit far a couple of times.

"Damn," Glory Girl said, clearly invigorated. "You're pretty good."

"One of them's getting away," Taylor warned, pointing at the alley entrance. How did she-? Glory Girl turned, just as a gunshot rang out. We flew toward the alley entrance, the heavy thudding of Browbeat's footsteps just behind us.

"AMES!" Glory Girl shrieked. Panacea lay crumpled on the sidewalk, a pool of blood growing around her.

"Over there!" Taylor pointed at the fleeing gangbanger. We reoriented only for something to blur past us from behind, striking the thug in the back of the head. He collapsed.

We blinked and turned; Browbeat shrugged. "Nice throw," we said, before we hurried over to the two New Wavers as Glory Girl fumbled with her phone.

 _Shit, shit shit! I'm pretty damn sure this wasn't supposed to happen!_ I thought furiously as I dug through our library of powers. It didn't take long to find what I was looking for.

Life/Craft.

We reached down and touched Panacea's face, a blue-green light pulsing, and she gasped and sat up, then began to hyperventilate.

"Ames?" Glory Girl asked, letting the phone hang slack in her hands. She peeled the bullet hole in Panacea's costume open, revealing a pale spot of unblemished skin beneath.

"I'm... I'm okay," Panacea said after she got hold of herself. She patted herself down and prodded the now-absent wound. "The bullet went through and through, and..." She looked over her sister's shoulder directly at us. "What did you _do?_ "

"Secondary power?" Taylor offered with a shrug as Glory Girl helped her sister to her feet. "It's... kind of a healing touch. This is, um, the first time I ever tried it on anything more than minor cuts and bruises."

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Glory Girl interrupted, pulling us into a nearly bone-crushing hug.

We blinked. "Um, you're welcome."

Panacea pulled Glory Girl back. "Yes, thank you."

"So, Alexandria package _and_ healing too?" Glory Girl shook her head. "Talk about winning the power lottery."

"Yeah, could you _not_ spread the word?" we asked. "I'd rather keep it quiet for now."

"No problem," Glory Girl assured us, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I... understand," Panacea said, her shoulders slumping slightly.

I suppressed a wince at that.

"Hey, Browbeat," Glory Girl called, "you gonna actually introduce us to our new friend here?"

Our brawny partner looked a bit shredded, but we could see his wounds closing already as he put his biokinesis to work. He rolled his eyes. "Glory Girl, Panacea, this is Paragon. Paragon, Glory Girl and Panacea of New Wave."


	11. Orientation 2-3

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Orientation 2.3_

I stifled a yawn.

High school was boring enough the _first_ time I went through it; repetition did not improve the matter. Still, Arcadia was a vast improvement over Winslow. The textbooks and course materials were more up to date, the teachers were more engaged, and oh yeah, there was the distinct absence of Emma Barnes.

"You okay, Taylor? You're looking pretty beat."

Taylor looked up. "I'm fine, Carlos, thanks. Just had a long night last night."

I'll admit, I had my suspicions when Carlos first introduced himself to us on Monday, given his name and the efforts by Chris and Dennis. Still, one look at him with cape sight cleared those up. He didn't have powers, so, name aside, he couldn't be Aegis.

He wasn't flirting with us - thank God; I don't know if I'll _ever_ be ready to deal with _that_ \- but he was friendly enough, and he seemed to have struck up some sort of relationship with Maria, judging from how much time they spent talking to each other.

Either way, it was nice to have a friend with whom conversations _didn't_ inevitably turn to capes.

"So, having any trouble keeping up?" Carlos asked. "I know the curriculum's a little bit different..."

"No, I'm doing fine," Taylor answered. She didn't need my input here. "It's not much different from when I had to, um, _compensate_ for certain issues at Winslow."

Carlos flinched and shook his head. "You know, I heard the rumors," he said. "I don't want to pry, but-"

"I'd... rather not talk about it."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Okay. I get it." He smiled. "But hey, if you ever need a friendly ear, I'm willing to listen."

"I-I'll keep that in mind," Taylor stammered, watching him leave. After a moment, I realized a couple of things: first, where, exactly, Taylor had let our gaze linger, and second...

 _Taylor?_

 _Yeah?_

 _Are we blushing?_

 _...maybe?_

Lord, save me from sharing a body with a hormonal teenager.

* * *

It was amazing how useful the Weaver identity remained, despite being retired from active heroics. We didn't know if anyone in the PRT suspected we were Weaver, but on the off-chance they did, it would just serve as yet another layer to protect our Paragon identity. Certainly, by approaching the PRT and offering a line of spider silk body armor, we did a fine job of keeping the PRT's focus on Weaver.

But the Weaver identity came with other complications.

For example, we were about to meet with New Wave for the first time.

 _Again._

Seriously, I didn't think we were likely to slip up, but keeping our identities straight around them was going to be an _interesting_ challenge in the long run.

We squared our shoulders and gave Roland Hanover a quick glance before walking up to the house. Trained in both cape law and business law, Roland Hanover was one of the "sons" in Hanover & Sons, a firm that specialized as an on-call legal consultancy for rogues. They were the ones who had explained that, due to the privacy protection provisions of cape law, we weren't actually required to provide any of our real information on any legal documents under our cape name.

So, legally, Weaver was eighteen. There were a lot fewer headaches that way.

You know, I never liked the term "rogue." To a D&D player like myself, it has all sorts of negative connotations, mainly implications of illegal and immoral activity that are allegedly the province of villains. I suppose it made sense in that rogues are "going rogue" from the usual hero/villain "script," but _that_ assumption was one I had entirely _different_ issues with.

The whole hero/villain back-and-forth was fine when it was just drawings in a comic or lines of text, but it was a different matter entirely when there were real lives involved.

I brought my attention back to reality as the door in front of us opened, revealing Brandish, aka Carol Dallon.

Projection/Aura.

I decided not to copy it. We already had Laserdream, Shielder, and Glory Girl's, after all, and there was definitely a strong possibility of overlap.

"Weaver, Roland," she said, nodding to each of us in turn. "Please, come in."

After we entered, she introduced us to her daughters. As it happened, her husband was currently indisposed. We kept the conversation light for a bit before getting down to business. Roland handled most of the paperwork, but the difficult part was when it came to measurements.

"You... want to... cover us in bugs?" Glory Girl sputtered.

"It would provide us with the most accurate measurements."

"Somehow, I doubt you did that for the PRT," Glory Girl griped.

"The PRT needed standardized armor," we pointed out. "New Wave, on the other hand, needs tailored costumes that are virtually skin tight, with the only exception being your sister, given the loose-fitting nature of her costume design."

"Couldn't you just use one of my current costumes to size it then?"

"We could," we said, "but it may not be perfect, and... we're afraid we would have to insist on additional fees for any adjustments. Our power allows us a great deal of control during the initial creation, but adjustments are considerably more complex."

After that very first night out as Weaver, we had decided to just roll with the plural pronouns in this identity, as it would add some distinctiveness to our Weaver identity and - hopefully - further divorce it from our identities as Taylor and Paragon. It usually came naturally anyway, but not always. I don't think we slipped up enough to make anyone suspicious, though. Well, maybe Browbeat; we did tend to be a little less guarded when we were just hanging out with him.

It took some convincing, but Glory Girl eventually came around. It was during the fitting that I noticed Panacea looking ever so slightly despondent over to the side. I doubt I would have noticed it had I not been taking care to pay attention to her.

 _Perv,_ came the good-natured jab.

 _What? No! It's not like that!_ I retorted. _That girl's power puts her one twitch away from unleashing an extinction-level bioweapon, and she has some seriously deep-seated family issues, mainly over her adoption and who her real father was._

 _And right now, she's being left out, reminded that she's not really part of the family._

 _Bingo, but what can we really do? Her outfit really doesn't need these precise measurements._

 _I've got an idea._

"Panacea," Taylor called, "while we can do your robes with traditional measurements, if you want us to make an undersuit for you, we'll need to get you fitted properly too."

I have never, ever seen anyone look so happy at the prospect of being covered in bugs.

It wasn't long before we finished sizing up the Dallons. Our next stop was the Pelham home, where we met similar resistance from Crys- err, Laserdream. For Shielder's part...

"Just be gentle," he said, giving us the most convincing set of puppy dog eyes I'd ever seen. I resisted the urge to roll our eyes. I needn't have bothered, as Taylor did that for both of us anyway.

 _Mmm... not bad,_ she thought as the bugs swarmed over to measure Shielder.

 _Now who's being a perv?_ I teased. _What? Carlos not enough for you?_

 _Shut up._

 _Are you seriously feeling him up with bugs?_

 _Of course not. I'm just getting the necessary measurements,_ she retorted primly, _and hey, I'm fifteen and shy, not dead._

Once the Pelhams' measurements were done, we headed back to the Hanover & Sons office.

"I'll get these contracts filed away," Roland said, "but before you go, there's something else."

"Yes?"

"One of our other clients wanted to mention that he would be interested in possibly hiring you if this costume business doesn't pan out and your power is what he thinks it is," he said and pulled out a business card. "His card."

We blinked as we accepted the card. Decon Sanitation Services. Apparently, it was a commercial cleaning company run by a local rogue named Decon. The brief blurb on the back advertised his power: the ability to sanitize an object or surface by touch.

 _Huh._

* * *

When we got home, Da- Danny was waiting for us.

"So, Taylor, how did it go?" he asked.

We smiled. "It went pretty well. Even got a job offer."

"More costume commissions?"

"No, actually," we said, holding up Decon's business card. "I guess Decon thinks a bug controller could be useful."

"Decon," Danny said, leaning back thoughtfully. "He has contracts with most of the hospitals in the city. A few people I'd gotten janitor positions for lost their jobs when he set up his business a couple of years ago, but he was decent enough to hire them on himself." He looked back at us and asked, just a bit too eagerly, "Are you thinking of taking him up on his offer?"

We shook our head. "Unlikely, Dad. Between school, hero work, and the costume business, I don't have enough time as it is."

"I can understand that," he said. He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "I just wish my dockworkers had the same problem."

We went silent, all three of us thinking about the same thing.

The Boat Graveyard.

Danny had suggested clearing it out, and neither Taylor nor I could find a reason to disagree. It would help revitalize the Bay's economy - or at least give it a chance to recover - and provide job opportunities outside the thriving gang market. The only problem was... we couldn't do it. At least not yet. TTK gave us the strength to lift a lot - and we didn't even need to worry about leverage - but without some way to cut them down to a more manageable size, we couldn't even get started.


	12. Orientation 2-4

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Orientation 2.4_

Thursday afternoon was for reconnaissance. That left Friday for planning.

"Browbeat," we greeted the biokinetic as we touched down, Friday afternoon. We glanced at the woman standing with him on the rooftop.

She was a few inches shorter than us, with short black hair, a pale complexion, and a, um, _healthy_ build. Her costume was fairly basic, but high quality, a black bodysuit with neon blue highlights. Her face was concealed behind a round pair of goggles with red lenses and black frames affixed to what looked like a matching bicycle helmet. All in all, it was a very "Tron" look, I thought.

I switched to cape sight.

Copy/Contact.

Okay, _that_ had potential, so I copied it and added it to our library.

"Paragon," he said. He gestured to the woman. "This is Binary, another independent hero."

"I hear you're planning on taking down the Merchants," she said brusquely. "I want a piece of that action."

"What kind of powers do you have?" we asked. She scowled. "I don't need specifics," we said, "but we can't plan if we don't have at least some idea what we're working with. Browbeat and I have worked together before, and I'm guessing you've worked with him too. I'm an Alexandria package: flight, strength, and I'm immune to small arms fire."

"She's also got a healing touch," Browbeat interjected.

We frowned at him. "Try not to spread it around."

Pressing her lips together, she gave us a quick nod.

"When I was a Ward, the PRT rated me as a Breaker/Brute," she said. _Truth._ So, she had been a Ward but _didn't_ join the Protectorate? There _had_ to be a story there.

And yes, we had built a lie detector into our visor. Armsmaster wasn't the only one who could play that game, damn it.

She stretched her left arm out to the side, holding her palm out.

And suddenly there were two of her, mirror images of each other, palms together.

"We can also shift density between us," the one on our left - the original - said. "It's not on a one for one basis, either, and I get stronger the higher my density." _Truth._ "I'm pretty much bulletproof at the top end, and at the low end, I'm almost incorporeal." _Truth._ "I can't actually walk through walls, though." _Truth._

So, that gave us three heavy hitters, but not many options beyond "hit them really hard." Still, that didn't seem like it was going to be too much of a problem, based on our research into the Merchants.

Squealer was a Tinker, yes, but a poorly-funded one with a specialization in vehicles; she wasn't likely to be packing a disintegrator ray or a suit of powered armor. Skidmark's push field was potentially more dangerous, but the power we got from Laserdream should work for that. We hoped. Mush... I still didn't know what to make of Mush. Seriously, animated trash mini-mech? What the hell?

"Weaver was able to provide the layout of what we believe to be the main Merchants headquarters," we said, pulling out the maps we had sketched out the night before.

The three - well, four - of us sketched out our assault plan.

* * *

The last thing we wanted was an offer to join the Protectorate. We weren't actually _avoiding_ them, per se, but we certainly weren't going out of our way to look for them either. After our meeting with Browbeat and Binary broke up, we flew around, trying to get a feel for the city from this angle.

We halted when we saw someone flying up toward us. We recognized him with cape sight before we did visually.

Insight/Versatility.

"Kid Win," we greeted.

"Hi!" the Ward replied excitedly. "New Wave mentioned there was a new independent hero in town!" _Truth._ "You must be Paragon!"

"That's correct," we said, an amused smile crossing our face. He may have Iron Man's color scheme, but he always reminded me more of the Young Justice version of Blue Beetle. "Can I help you?"

"Well, um, first," he said, "Armsmaster says good job with that gang fight the other day. Ahem. 'Always good to see a new hero hit the ground running.'" _Truth._

We snorted at the horrible impersonation. "Thank you. And second?"

"And second, on behalf of the Protectorate East-Northeast-" I quirked an eyebrow, and he broke off and chuckled. "We're a little short on flyers," he admitted. _Partial truth._ After a moment, he added, "...aaand Dauntless and Aegis are busy right now, or one of them would be here instead." _Truth._ "Anyway, I'm supposed to ask if you're interested in joining the Protectorate." _Truth._

Taylor shook our head. "I appreciate the offer, Kid Win, but no." I jumped in with the wording I had figured out while she was talking for us. Multitasking for the win. "Please convey my regrets, but personal circumstances make joining the Protectorate impractical at this time."

He sighed and nodded. "I'll pass that along." _Truth._ He paused, then added, "Still, could you at least drop by PRT headquarters and register as an affiliate? That way, we can keep you in the loop." _Truth._

"I'll look into that."

* * *

"Dad?" we called as we returned from our morning jog.

"Yeah, kiddo?" he said.

"It's gonna be today," we told him.

It took him a moment to place what we were talking about. After a moment, he nodded stiffly. "Right," he said. "Your big debut." He opened his mouth, about to say something further, but nothing came out. Finally, he said, "Just... be careful, Taylor, all right?"

"I will," we promised.

It was time to go to work.

* * *

Saturday.

We hovered over our target and surveyed it with our visor's X-ray mode. It wasn't like Superman's X-ray vision; it actually used a compilation of backscatter X-ray, high-frequency radar, and other sensors to construct a real-time wire frame model of the warehouse, highlighting denser materials - like metal, including wiring and piping, or the bones of the people inside - in green against a black background.

We also checked our cape sight. If things worked out, this would be our only chance to copy these shards.

Animate/Control. That would be Mush.

Imbue/Speed. Skidmark.

Where was Squealer?

We had really been hoping to make a clean sweep, but two out of three was about what we had expected.

"Skidmark, Mush, ten others," we reported. "Assault rifles and handguns, no heavy weapons in evidence."

The two-way radios we'd built weren't exactly tinkertech, per se, since the end result wasn't really ahead of current technology, but Kid Win's power allowed us to scavenge and repurpose objects and components to a level that would make MacGyver jealous, even if it didn't play well with Lisa's power.

Binary kicked it off by demonstrating how she'd turned her Breaker/Brute power into a Mover power.

It was a one-woman fastball special, shifting density literally on the fly until her hyperdense clone - or was it the original? - smashed shoulder-first through the warehouse's back wall. On that signal, Browbeat tore a loading dock's rolling gate off its rails, and Taylor and I crashed in through the roof, boxing in the Merchants.

"Who the flying ass-fuck are you?!" That lovely bit of poetry came from Skidmark.

"We're the neighborhood watch," we quipped. "Are you going to come quietly?"

"Fuck you, cunt lips!"

Unsurprisingly, the profanity-laden answer we got was accompanied by the distinctive staccato of AK type rifles as Skidmark and two unpowered Merchants opened fire on us.

We _could_ have just let the bullets hit us. With the TTK force field around us, they wouldn't have hurt. In fact, I was perfectly willing to do that.

Taylor, however, had other ideas.

Time/Stasis.

Our right hand rose up, palm out, as I shuffled through my power library and accessed Clockblocker's power. For us, rather than stopping time for a single object by touch, it generated a zone of decelerated time; the closer to the point where we activated the power, the slower time flowed, with us specifically excluded from the effect. Once placed, the zone stayed in place so long as we maintained it.

The bullets were moving at a crawl far enough out that we actually had to step forward to bat them aside.

 _Okay, so... why exactly did we reveal another one of our powers?_ I asked.

 _We got lucky in that fight the other day. Ricochets could hurt someone._

I had no answer to that. That this was coming from the girl who would have literally _rotted Lung's crotch off_ in her first outing if I weren't here... I really had no words.

 _Ew!_

 _Sorry._

While I was busy ruminating over this, Taylor had occupied herself with charging the two unpowered Merchants. Fortunately, once I had our TTK "set" to invulnerability and super-strength, I didn't need to consciously direct it; _that_ would have been fun to coordinate... for a Dwarf Fortress definition of "fun."

As they tried to reload, Taylor simply reached out and smashed their heads together. A few more rounds pinged off our TTK shield, and we turned to face Skidmark, who - still cursing, of course - dropped his AK.

"...motherfucking shitstain! I'm gonna...!"

I went back to tuning him out, but that was apparently Browbeat's cue, as a supersonic brick suddenly flew at Skidmark... only to be deflected towards us before it could hit the drug lord. The brick shattered on our TTK shield, but it still had enough force to make us step back.

Skidmark ignored Browbeat and reached to a metal frame shelf he was standing next to. What was he going to-?

He yanked the shelf, tipping it so that its contents - I didn't really get a good look what - hit the floor... and then suddenly accelerated toward us, bombarding us at high speed. We stumbled back a couple of steps as they battered us, and the area around us was immediately obscured with powder in the air.

I was pretty sure it wasn't flour.

Our visor's feed flickered to compensate, but we were too busy coughing our lungs up to really take advantage of it.

Damn it, Skidmark wasn't supposed to be this competent. He was _supposed_ to be stoned off his ass!

Well, at least now we knew that the danger sense we got from Miss Militia apparently didn't consider attacks that can't actually hurt us as "danger." That was useful information.

 _Fuck it,_ I thought as I rifled through our power library again. Sensing where I was going, Taylor agreed, and our arms rose up, fists pointing at him. _I just hope this works._

Projection/Energy/Artillery.

Unlike Laserdream, we couldn't fly or create even the weaker force fields she was limited to. Our energy blasts took a different form too. Bolts of pure concussive force blasted out from our fists, slamming into Skidmark's chest and throwing him back against the wall.

Guardian/Vigilance.

Our danger sense flashed, and we reacted on instinct. Turning, we saw some sort of armored truck barreling in through the door Browbeat had torn open. With a single smooth motion, we completed our turn and brought our fist up, charging a concussion blast in our fist and combining it with our TTK.

Crunch! CRASH!

We buried our fist in the truck's frontal armor before unleashing the concussion blast a split second later. The entire truck _heaved_ off the ground and flew backwards to an undignified landing back out on the street.

 _That was_ awesome! I thought.

Taylor nodded briefly, staring dazedly at Squealer's wrecked battlewagon, even as I switched to cape sight.

Insight/Travel.

 _So_ copied. We needed more Tinker powers.

At that point, Browbeat leaped onto the armored truck and started peeling it open. "I got this!" he called. "Help Binary!"

We turned and jogged through the warehouse and out the hole Binary had made in the wall to the small pier behind it. Mush was in full golem mode, with a Binary on either side.

We watched as he swung at the Binary to our right. That one was apparently at low density; she rippled around his fist as it passed through her, but otherwise remained unperturbed. The other Binary, apparently at high density, lunged in and struck, knocking a few pieces of trash loose from the gestalt. Still, it didn't seem to be having any serious effect.

Stalemate.

 _We really need some better Thinker powers,_ I groused.

Taylor ignored me. She was looking at Mush's golem form. It was constructed from the sort of refuse you'd find in this area: scrap metal, old tires, broken glass, old timber, paper, and so on.

 _How much you wanna bet that stuff doesn't float well?_ she asked as she launched us toward Mush, firing a series of concussive blasts as we flew.

We bumrushed Mush off the pier and into the water, then flew back. The Merchant cape floundered helplessly as the trash golem built around him dragged him down.

Finally, he dismissed his power and frantically dog-paddled for the surface, gasping for air and reaching up with a scrawny arm. "I give up! I give up!"


	13. Orientation 2-5

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Orientation 2.5_

"PRT emergency hotline," a bored voice answered. We had swapped our burner phone with Danny to help conceal the connection between Paragon and Weaver. "What is your emergency?"

"This is Paragon, independent hero," we said. "I'm with Binary and Browbeat. We have Skidmark, Squealer, Mush, and ten non-parahuman Merchants incapacitated in a drug house, ready for pick up." We took a moment to double check the address before giving it.

There was a long pause.

"Hello?"

"Ah, copy that, Paragon," the operator said, suddenly sounding _much_ more attentive. "I'm routing a pick up team to your location. Can you remain on site to give a statement?"

"I won't speak for Binary or Browbeat, but barring an emergency, I'll be here."

"Understood. ETA, fifteen minutes."

We hung up and looked over at our two compatriots. "PRT's on their way, fifteen minutes."

"Good," Binary said, "now when were you going to mention your other powers?"

"I told you I was an Alexandria package, and I am, sort of," I said, taking the lead. "You'd be amazed how versatile telekinesis can be."

She frowned. "So... you're actually a Shaker playing a Brute?"

We just smirked.

"Fucking Shakers."

For his part, Browbeat was staying conspicuously silent on the matter. We cocked an eyebrow at him, and he merely shrugged and shook his head. Curious.

Our conversation was cut short as we heard the sound of a powerful engine approaching. We turned warily; so far as I knew, even Squealer wasn't crazy enough to trust her tinkertech vehicles to her drug-addled gang members, but it was better safe than sorry.

It was a motorcycle.

Insight/Efficiency.

That could only be Armsmaster. I copied it. As I mentioned earlier, we needed more Tinker powers.

I thought back to what I knew about Armsmaster from my prior life. His name was Colin something, and his Tinker specialty was miniaturization, which matched what our cape sight had just given us. His signature gear consisted of his Swiss Army halberd and his bullshit lie detector, though online research had demonstrated the latter wasn't widely known here on Earth-Bet, nor was the nano-thorn thing he was working on. He had poor social skills, was a bit of a glory hound, and had a thing with Dragon. And he was somehow at least partly responsible for driving Skitter to going full-on villain.

I made sure our visor's lie detector was on.

The motorcycle rumbled to a stop, and the leader of the Protectorate ENE climbed off. He glanced at our companions and nodded. "Binary. Browbeat."

"Armsmaster," Binary said, giving only a curt, almost rude, nod in return. She leaned back against the warehouse's wall, arms folded.

"Sir." Browbeat, in contrast, faced the Tinker respectfully, and- was he standing at attention? He _was_ , or at least a good enough approximation that civilians like Taylor and myself couldn't tell the difference.

Finally, Armsmaster looked at us. "You must be Paragon."

I nodded. "That's correct." _Taylor, you okay?_

 _Sorry,_ she replied. _But it's_ Armsmaster! _We have underwear with his logo on it._

 _I did_ not _need to know that._

"I'm Armsmaster. It's always good to meet an up and coming new hero," he said, extending a hand. _Partial truth._

Interesting.

"Nice to meet you," I replied, shaking his hand.

He nodded toward the three Merchant capes. We had tied them up separately, some distance from the unpowered prisoners, so we could keep a clear eye on them. "Impressive work."

"Thank you."

He turned back to us. "I understand you spoke with Kid Win the other day. Given what you've accomplished today, I wanted to meet you myself." _Truth._ "Are you sure you won't reconsider the Protectorate?"

We shrugged. "Like I told Kid Win, personal issue would make that impractical."

Armsmaster gave a curt nod. "I see. Unfortunate." _Truth._ "Still, I hope we'll be able to work together in the future." _Partial truth._

Goddamn, he was giving mixed signals. Once again, I found myself wishing we'd gotten Tattletale's power intact, rather than a Tinker reinterpretation.

His gaze drifted over to Binary and Browbeat again before focusing back on us. "So, why don't I go ahead and get started on taking your statements while we wait for the pick up team?"

The debriefing had a few hiccups.

...

"We got some advance recon from Weaver," Browbeat said. "She's a rogue."

"I'm familiar with her." _Truth._ "What's your relation with her?"

"I patrolled with her a bit before she went rogue," Browbeat answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "She put me in touch with Paragon."

"And you, Paragon?"

 _Crap!_ "I've known Weaver for a while," we said after a moment. "I agreed with her that her power just wasn't really suited for the hero business."

...

"Concussion blasts? What exactly _are_ your powers?"

"I'm still feeling out my limits, but like I told Binary, you'd be amazed how versatile telekinesis can be."

"I see."

...

"A good debut for your team." _Truth._ He paused and frowned. " _Are_ you a team? Binary doesn't generally play well with others, as I recall." _Truth._

"Screw you, Halbeard." And here I thought that was just a fan nickname. Either way, the insult just rolled right off of him. Clearly, he was used to Binary's surliness.

"I'd like to think so," we said. "We did good here, and I think we can do more."

"Well, good luck. We're always glad to have more hero teams helping out." _Partial truth._

...

God, that had been stressful.

* * *

The three - four? - of us left once the pick up team had arrived. The pick up team consisted of three PRT vans - one for each cape - and two BBPD vans for the ten non-cape Merchants.

"So, about that team thing," Browbeat said hesitantly as we landed on a nearby roof. "You serious?"

We nodded. "I am."

"Pfft. Call me when you need me," Binary said. "Not before." She turned and stalked off.

"She's got a real chip on her shoulder," we mused aloud.

"You get used to it," Browbeat said. _Partial Truth._ "I don't know the details, but she quit the Wards on bad terms after Lung came to town a few years ago. She's been flying solo since." _Truth._

"I see."

"Still, Weaver, I guess it makes having this conversation easier."

Our head whipped around in surprise, then we let our head and shoulders slump.

"Come on," he said. "I'm guessing this is something you'd rather talk about in private. There's a loft not too far from here I've set up."

We nodded and followed him. Once we were in the loft, we surreptitiously used our visor to scan for any possible eavesdroppers. That done, we turned to him and asked, "When did you figure it out?"

"What are the odds two brand new capes just happen to know each other?" he asked rhetorically. "Throw in the fact that your visor's obviously tinkertech - of a specialty I haven't heard of before - and your rather creative use of language when talking to Armsmaster, and it was obvious." _Truth._ He shrugged. "You were dancing around half of what you said with double meanings. I'm guessing you're actually some kind of Trump, then? Eidolon two-point-oh?" _Truth._

"Hardly," we said, rolling our eyes. "I don't have anywhere _near_ as many powers in my library as he does, and I can't keep as many active."

He snorted. "That still puts you in the top, what? Two, three percent?" He shook his head and sighed. "If we're really going to do this team thing, we're going to need to trust each other more." _Truth._ "And we're going to need a bigger team." _Truth._

"I don't suppose you know anyone, do you?"

"I might," he hedged. "There were a few other independent heroes I know who declined to participate, but after this showing, they might reconsider." _Truth._ "I'm more worried about the trust thing. Don't think I missed how you reacted when I mentioned your healing touch."

"I asked you not to spread it around."

"There's a difference between 'spreading it around' and briefing someone who expects us to watch her back. Now, I'm pretty sure this loft is private, but just in case... that visor of yours, can it tell if anyone's listening in?"

"It can, and we're clear, at least as far as it can tell. Why do you-"

"My name's Peter," he interrupted as he took off his mask and shrunk down. "Peter Collins." _Truth._

Huh. He was a lot smaller than I'd anticipated, a lean, wiry build, with a hint of Southeast Asia in his features, though of different stock than I was mostly familiar with. Apparently, he was one of the capes for whom the law of conservation of matter was more of a suggestion.

We bit our lip.

 _Your call, Taylor._

 _I know._

Life/Augmentation.

Reversing the power, we pulled off the visor.

"Taylor. My name is Taylor Hebert."

* * *

"Breaking news: The PRT has just announced that Skidmark, Squealer, and Mush - parahuman leaders of the notorious street gang and local drug cartel known as the Merchants - have been apprehended in a daring daylight raid today by an alliance of independent heroes led by Paragon, including local heroes Binary and Browbeat.

"As you may recall, Paragon made her dramatic debut earlier this week assisting Browbeat and New Wave member Glory Girl in halting a firefight between members of the Azn Bad Boys and the Empire Eighty-Eight. Rumors that Panacea was injured during this earlier altercation appear to be unfounded.

"In other news..."


	14. Interlude 2A - Amy

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Interlude 2A - Amy_

Her name was Amy Dallon, but she was better known as Panacea, the great healer of Brockton Bay's New Wave, the girl who drew in terminally ill patients (and their families) from all across the eastern seaboard for healing.

Her life, she knew, could have been a lot worse. She had school, then a couple of hours at Brockton Memorial Hospital, volunteering her power to heal. And through it all, she had her sister, Vicky.

She had rules. She didn't do brains. She didn't take requests. She only treated terminal cases and did so in order of increasing life expectancy. She spent no more than two hours each day at the hospital. Of course, heroes were exempt from _most_ of those rules.

And she felt _guilty_ for having them.

She knew it wasn't rational. She knew if she started doing brains, she might get it wrong; she'd be tempted to go further, might even do it without realizing it. She knew if she took requests or started healing people who _weren't_ dying, the guilt of _deciding_ who to heal would crush her. She knew if she didn't limit her time volunteering, she would _never_ leave.

That didn't make the guilt go away.

And Vicky, as much as Amy enjoyed her company, just made it worse.

Still, Amy sometimes wondered how things might have been different.

She never dared speculate on what might have happened if she'd never been adopted - that way lay villainy, she was certain - but she sometimes wondered how things might have been if she'd been adopted by someone else or at a different time in her life.

Carol didn't trust her, and Mark wasn't really there; Vicky - perfect Vicky - had remained her rock, her foundation.

And that was the problem. She was six years old when the Dallons had adopted her, right when the Westermarck effect - she had looked this up - stopped imprinting. And she was in love with her sister.

Or was she?

Right now, she wasn't so sure. She still loved Vicky; of that, she had no doubt. Beyond that...?

She didn't know anymore. And she wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

It had been a stressful week. She had been shot, and she'd never been shot before. She still found her hands trembling, sometimes.

When Paragon had healed her, she had felt... different. She wasn't sure exactly how, though, so she'd let it pass. Vicky had seemed especially _wonderful_ afterwards, but she had paid that little mind; Vicky was _always_ wonderful. She'd been far more focused on the fact that there was _another_ healer in the city now... one who - for quite understandable reasons, she was sure - _wasn't_ going to be joining her at the hospital.

She still remembered when she first realized what had changed.

* * *

 _It had been a strange day. After school, there had been the fitting session with Weaver. That had certainly been an..._ experience _. Of course, her own power meant she was a lot less creeped out by it than Vicky, and it had been nice of Weaver to include her... especially since it helped distract her from the all-too-fresh memory of getting shot._

 _Afterwards, Vicky had practically frog-marched her to a date with yet_ another _guy. If it had been anyone else setting these dates up, Amy was sure she would have gotten fed up with them a long time ago; as it was, she was started to get fed up anyway. The guy - Brad? No,_ Brandon _\- was a nice guy, reasonably friendly, with rugged good looks... but there just wasn't any spark; nothing different there. The dinner had been good, as usual, given the caliber of the restaurant. And she had enjoyed the film. No, more than that. She had been_ happy _to watch the film._

 _She had been happy._

 _She honestly_ could not remember _the last time she had been happy when Vicky wasn't around._

 _It was... unsettling._

 _Just as they stepped out of the theater, a flash of blonde hair caught her eye... and her eyes narrowed with a flash of annoyance._

 _"So, uh, did you want to do anything else tonight, Amy?"_

 _"No," she answered, "I think... I think I'll call it a night."_

 _"Well, good night, then, Amy."_

 _"Good night, Brandon."_

 _She waited a few minutes after he left before spinning on her heel and storming toward her spying sister. During those few minutes, her irritation was simmering nicely, and she was fully intent on giving Vicky a piece of her mind._

 _Amy knew she had a vindictive streak, one that secretly terrified her at times, but this was the first time it had been directed at Vicky. Usually, she couldn't muster anything more than weary resignation._

 _But this was going too far! She was_ seventeen _, damn it! She could take care of herself! Where did Vicky get off spying on her on her like this? It's not like Vicky was any older, and the thought of her claiming to be more_ responsible _than Amy was downright laughable._

 _Vicky loved her. She got that. But Vicky herself had vetted Brandon, or she wouldn't have set up the date in the first place. It was an invasion of privacy! It was... it was... one more sign of just how much Vicky loved her._

 _Amy stumbled a bit in confusion. She ran through that last thought again and tried to reconcile it with the way Vicky was cringing away. Vicky was... afraid of her? But why? She had been... she'd been angry. At Vicky._

 _But she wasn't now. Instead, all she can feel was a sense of... warmth at how much Vicky cared about her._

 _That was when she understood._

 _She hadn't been_ immune _to Vicky's aura; she'd been_ addicted _._

 _And Paragon had cured her._

A few days later, it was a very conflicted Amy that, once again, headed to Brockton Memorial Hospital. She'd thrown herself into her volunteering since then, breaking one of her rules and adding an extra hour here and there to keep herself busy... and _away_ from Vicky. She was just outside when her thoughts were interrupted.

"Panacea?"

By now, most people were polite enough to leave her be in the streets, and hospital security tended to be able to restrain the more... "exuberant" medical tourists, so who...? She looked around.

"P-Paragon," she squeaked, startled. "H-hi."

The older woman tilted her head toward the hospital. "Can we talk?"

"Um, sure."

It felt felt a little surreal to Amy as she led Paragon to her unofficial office. It was barely more than a closet, but it served well enough as a place to get a little privacy when she needed a quick break or when they had run out of terminal patients.

"So, thanks again for... healing me," Amy said hesitantly. Paragon gave her a searching gaze, but whatever she was thinking, she said nothing. "How can I help?" A thought struck her, and she frowned, giving the other cape a scrutinizing look. "Did the Merchants hurt you?" She'd heard about Paragon and her alliance taking down the drug runners. "Do you need healing?" After all, she didn't know how Paragon's healing worked, and many parahumans - including herself! - couldn't use their powers on themselves.

"No, but thanks for asking," Paragon said, shaking her head. "It's... it's about my healing power," she said hesitantly. "I... I need to know how it works and what it can actually do. Your power would let you see that... as well as fix anything I might screw up. Will you help me?"

Amy stared, trying to wrap her head around this. Of all the things she had expected, this had not been it.

"If-if you don't want to," Paragon said hesitantly, a far cry from the confident superheroine Amy had seen just the other day, "I understa-"

"NO!" Amy blurted out. "I mean, yes! I mean, I'd be happy to help!" She paused and frowned. "But... I thought you wanted to keep it a secret?"

"I do," Paragon said, biting her lip. Her eyes gained a vague, far-off look. Amy tilted her head curiously as a look of annoyance crossed the older woman's face. After a moment, Paragon closed her eyes and sighed. "Panacea, can you keep a secret?"

"Of course!" Amy said, nodding vigorously. Just the thought of having someone to share the burden with, even for just a little while...

Paragon seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded.

At first, Amy didn't know what she was seeing as Paragon seemed to... shrink. Her eyes widened. If this was another application of her healing power, that indicated her power was actually much like Amy's own, only without her Manton limit.

An amusing thought crossed her mind at that. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought Paragon was some sort of cross between herself and Vicky.

"So, you're a Changer too?" Amy asked. Paragon had kept the mask on, so Amy still couldn't see her face, but she definitedly looked a lot younger than she had just moments ago, closer to Amy's age.

"Sort of," Paragon said. Even her voice sounded younger. "I can make myself larger or smaller, within a certain limit. I'd rather it not be advertised."

Amy nodded. She... she could understand that. The fact that Paragon trusted her with even this much was... nice.

"So, you're thinking of using a separate cape identity to heal?"

"Yeah," Paragon said, nodding. "Promise not to tell?"

Amy paused and considered the ramifications. Obviously, Paragon was using her Changer ability to help conceal her identity; if she wasn't, she was an idiot. Keeping her healing under wraps would give her an extra trump card if anything unforeseen happened... and also meant she wouldn't be trapped like Amy was into dedicating her life to healing.

"Yeah, okay," she said finally. "I won't tell anyone."


	15. Orientation 2-6

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Orientation 2.6_

We'd gotten a lot of good publicity from taking down the Merchants. More importantly, we had established Paragon as a force to be reckoned with and an independent hero worth teaming up with. There were also some unexpected effects as well, although frankly, we should have seen it coming.

In the media frenzy after the Merchant bust, a few local talking heads had asked some rather pointed questions about why neither the Protectorate ENE nor New Wave had been able to do what we'd done, despite having a head start measured in years.

I had a feeling Coil had something to do with that. I knew he planned to replace Piggot as the local PRT director in his civilian identity and unite the criminal side under his Coil identity, effectively ruling the city by proxy. Anything that hurt the public image of the Protectorate also reflected poorly on the PRT, moving him one step closer to the first part of that plan, and he'd have to neutralize New Wave's influence _somehow_.

Regardless, in response to the criticism, both teams had increased their patrol presence in the city. It was a simple, high-visibility response that might actually do some good without risking the PR backfire of accidentally kicking off a gang war. Still, it had to be hard on them; if they could have maintained this much presence continuously, I like to think they would already have been doing so.

For our part, Paragon was focusing on recruiting and team building, Weaver had sent a polite thanks-but-no-thanks e-mail to Decon and an inquiry for a possible partnership to Parian, and White Mage was about to make her debut.

Yes, we'd come up with a _third_ cape identity.

The fitting session with New Wave last week had reminded me of how emotionally fragile Amy was, and Taylor had pointed out that we still didn't really know how our healing power actually worked. The solution seemed obvious... until Panacea herself had pointed out that we had wanted to keep our healing power secret.

Unfortunately, there were few enough women who stood six and a half feet tall even in a city the size of Brockton Bay that the appearance of two new female capes in town that tall within a couple of weeks would raise suspicions, either that they were the same person or that one of them was a Changer, neither of which we wanted.

Ultimately, we agreed that revealing another power to Panacea was a lesser risk than any of our other options, and extending a bit of trust would certainly help. Besides, Panacea would figure out something was wonky the moment she touched us anyway.

Thus, White Mage.

When we explained the whole thing to Danny, he just shook his head and said nothing, a smile on his face. I think he was secretly laughing at us.

We stood in front of the mirror, once again modeling a new costume.

We hadn't spent as much time on this costume as we had on the Paragon one. We basically just bleached out one of our Weaver cloaks, then we - or rather, Taylor, as she actually knew what she was doing - sewed some triangular patterns of red cloth along its edges. The cloak's hood combined with a red wig to hide our hair. The spider silk bodysuit we wore under it retained its natural grey, and we reused the Paragon visor; since it was built to look like a simple domino mask, it shouldn't draw any attention.

It was a simple, clean design that clearly evoked Panacea's costume without being too close a copy of it, and internet research had assured us that the Final Fantasy series didn't even exist on Earth-Bet.  
color=transparentToo much foreshadowing?  
A quick twirl showed that everything looked right, that we hadn't missed a detail, so we changed back into civilian clothing and headed out, costumes tucked away in a duffel bag.

Yes, that _was_ "costumes," plural. Better safe than sorry.

* * *

Brockton Bay was, as noted previously, a city in decline. That did, however, make it a lot easier to change into costume without drawing suspicion. Not only was the city rife with derelict buildings, but most of the people on the street kept their heads down and tried not to poke into other people's business: natural selection in action.

We ducked into a building as Taylor Hebert, shadowported to another, got changed, then shadowported again and stepped out of yet another building as White Mage. We were probably being paranoid, but better safe than sorry.

We'd made sure to place our costumed exit as close as possible to where we agreed to meet Panacea, so it was only a couple of blocks before we saw her waiting for us... with Glory Girl.

It took me a moment to realize why I found that odd. We hadn't actually seen Amy much the past few days, not even at lunch with New Wave, which Stella kept dragging us to. Curious.

We were still half a block away when she spotted us and started waving excitedly.

"Hey, there."

"You actually came!" she squealed, pulling us into a surprise hug.

"Awp?" was our eloquent response. "Um, of course I did," we said, after we took a moment to collect ourselves.

After a moment, Panacea let us go and gestured. "Oh, um, this is my sister, Glory Girl. Vicky, this is White Mage."

"Pleased to meet you," we said, extending a hand to the blonde powerhouse.

It was getting to be old hat by now. This was... what? The _fourth_ first time we'd met Glory Girl?

"Pleasure's all mine," Glory Girl said, giving our hand a vigorous shake. "So _you're_ the girl who's been on Amy's mind all this time."

We blinked. "Um?" We shot Panacea a questioning look, and the other healer blushed and shrank back.

 _Wait. Is Amy...?_

 _I think_ Vicky _thinks she is,_ I answered the unfinished question, _but I doubt it. Vicky's aura screwed her up a_ lot _. It's going to take more than a healing buddy with a pretty face to get her over those issues._

 _You think I'm pretty?_

 _...okay, now you're just messing with me, aren't you? There's literally no way I can answer that without either insulting you or coming across as a perv._

We could feel Glory Girl's aura ramp up slightly, pulling us from our internal dialogue. She waved a finger at us and said, "You treat her right, you hear me?"

" _Vicky!_ " Panacea fumed. When the blonde remained unmoved, even cracking a smile, she threw hands up in mock despair. "Ugh! Come on, White Mage, let's go."

* * *

Our first stop was PRT headquarters, where, with Panacea vouching for us, we registered our White Mage identity. After that, we had to handle some additional paperwork with hospital administration.

Our first day volunteering at Brockton Memorial was... informative, at least in terms of learning the limits of how our healing touch worked.

"Never, ever, ever use your power on a cancer patient again. _Ever._ "

 _"You can create biomass?!"_

"Well? Go ahead."

"Um, I am."

"But... nothing's happening. Oh! I think I get it."

"What?"

"This is a genetic condition. That must be something your power can't fix."

All in all, it was pretty informative.

Ding!

"That's it," Panacea said, pulling away from her latest patient.

We blinked and looked up. "What?"

"My alarm," she explained. "Once that goes off, I stop. I _have_ to stop." Her voice dropped a little. "If I don't, I'll be here all night." She paused, then added, "Or at least until Vicky drags me home, anyway."

We stayed in companionable silence as we got cleaned up. Panacea could easily use her power to purge her skin of any infectious bacteria - and viruses? I wasn't sure - but we didn't have that luxury.

As we were leaving the hospital, Panacea spoke up. "Um, White Mage?"

We stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"Are you...? Do you have plans for tonight?"

 _Are you_ sure _she isn't...?_

 _Yes,_ I assured Taylor. _From what I understand, GG's aura hit her at just the right point in her life to make her Vickysexual. We aren't Vicky, ergo she's not interested._

"Not really, why?"

"Do you want to, I dunno, hang out?"

 _She could use a friend,_ I pointed out. _For that matter, Taylor, so could you._

 _I have you._ She didn't mention Stella; for all her exuberance, we weren't really more than acquaintances who ate lunch together at school.

 _I'm a voice in your head,_ I reminded her.

 _Point._

Taylor looked up and offered a hesitant smile. "Sure."


	16. Interlude 2B - Lisa

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Interlude 2B - Lisa_

 **Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.** You are currently logged in,  All_Seeing_Eye  
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 **Topic: Bye Bye Merchants!**  
 **In: Boards ► News ► Events ► America ► Brockton Bay**

 **SaneRedMoon**  
(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 12, 2011  
Hot off the presses, guys! Remember Paragon from  NameJunkie's thread a few days ago?

Looks like she wasn't satisfied with just stopping a shootout for her debut. Seems she teamed up with local favorite Browbeat and ex-Ward Binary to take the Merchants out of business.

Check it out!

Edit: Update! Press release from Armsmaster himself (link). Looks like this new Alliance is set to make some big waves in the Bay.

Edit2: Looks like one of the Merchants had his camera phone running when it all went down. Enjoy and don't ask how I got it.

Last edited: March 15, 2011

 **(Showing page 38 of 38)**

► **Day_hunter** (Veteran Poster)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
SpecificProtagonist: Okay, seriously, we get it. You like Browbeat and think he's hot. But you're getting into creeper territory. Knock it off before the mods come calling.

► **Dodos** (Veteran Poster)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Iruka_Cloud: I'm pretty sure the armor is just cosmetic, so I wouldn't riff the coverage too much. I mean, she's an Alexandria package; that would have to be some major league tinkertech armor to make any functional difference, and what are the odds a brand new independent hero would have access to something like that?

► **AbundantMuse**  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
*clicks video*

An exterior shot? Really? Not much to see. I hear gunfire, Skidmark being his usual eloquent self-

*gets to 4:33*

Duuude! Did she just one-punch one of Squealer's road tanks?

► **SaneRedMoon** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Got some extra footage, this time from the bad guys' point of view. Edited the OP, but for your convenience here's a link.

► **immaturealien**  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
AbundantMuse: Looks like.

So, let me get this straight. Three indie heroes, one of whom showed up less than a week ago, manage to knock one of Brockton Bay's cape gangs out in one raid?* What the hell's ENE been doing all this time? Twiddling their thumbs?

*Okay, yeah, the Merchants are _technically_ still around, but without their capes, how long do you really think that'll last?

EDIT: What the-?! Alexandria package _and_ some sort of bullet time power? That is some grade A bullshit right there.

Last edited: March 15, 2011

► **Binary** (Verified Cape)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
immaturealien: And now you know why I never joined the Protectorate. They'll strangle you in red tape.

► **Glory_Girl** (Verified Cape) (New Wave)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Binary: I still can't believe you three left me out of this!

► **firedwarf**  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
immaturealien: I don't think it's that crazy. My guess? Some kind of TK with weird implementation.

 **End of Page.** **1 - 36, 37, 38**

Topic: Brockton Bay Alliance  
 **In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay ► Teams ► Heroes**

 **SaneRedMoon**  
(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 12, 2011  
In conjunction with my thread here on the fall of the Merchants, it looks like Brockton Bay may be home to a new team of heroes, tentatively called the Alliance, based on what Armsmaster said here.

Members include:

Paragon  
-Gold breastplate and arm and shin guards; white boots, cape and mask; blue bodysuit.  
-Basic Alexandria package. Brute/Mover.  
Edit: (March 15) Newly acquired footage suggests telekinetic powers, possibly lacking fine control. Blaster? Shaker?

Browbeat  
-Diamond pattern blue-black body suit and full face mask, crystal on forehead.  
-Basic Brute package, regeneration.

Binary  
-Black bicycle helmet and goggles (red lenses), black and neon blue bodysuit.  
-Creates a clone, can shift density between clones. Breaker/Brute.  
Edit: (March 13) Confirmed NOT a member by  Binary (link)

Last edited: March 15, 2011

 **(Showing page 5 of 22)**

► **Moroboshi**  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
TheNose: All I'm saying is that this team's pretty Brute-heavy. What are they going to do if run into someone they can't overpower, like Lung?

They need more a diverse power set to give them more options in a fight.

► **Binary** (Verified Cape)  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
SaneRedMoon: For the record, I don't do teams. This was just a one-time thing.

► **SaneRedMoon** (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
Binary: Copied and understood. Will correct.

Edit: Corrected.

Last edited: March 13, 2011

► **TheNose** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
Moroboshi: I'm getting the feeling you don't quite understand how things work. Barring rumors about That Which Cannot Be Spoken, capes don't get to choose their powers. I'm sure they'd love to have a high-grade Shaker or Blaster on the team, but it's gotta be tough recruting, what with the Asian Nazis on one side and the _actual_ Nazis on the other.

► **Greatwhitedestroyer** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
Soooo, anyone want to bet how long this team lasts? My money's on a month before something horrible happens.

 **color=red*User has received a warning for this post***

► **Tin_Mother** (Moderator)  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
The risks of cape life are well known and not to be made light of.

► **Greatwhitedestroyer** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
Wait, what? I didn't mean one of them would die! I just meant that something would happen, and the team would break up over it. We see it all the time with these indie leagues.

► **OdysseusBow**  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
Greatwhitedestroyer: Suuure you did.

► **Gooddog**  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
They dont look so tuff.

► **Darkshouts** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 13, 2011  
What I want to know is, what's next? I'm betting on a recruitment drive. Since Binary just announced she's not actually part of the team... well, a two-person team isn't much of a team, now is it? Certainly not enough take on the ABB or E88.

 **End of Page.** **1 - 4, 5, 6 - 22**

* * *

"What're you doing?"

Lisa didn't bother looking up at Brian. "Research for the boss," she said.

"Let me guess: Paragon?"

She nodded as she went over the information available, firing up the video in a small window for review while she explored.

 _Hmm, another new cape in town?_

She clicked the link; it never hurt to be informed.

* * *

 **Topic: New Cape in Brockton Bay - White Mage**  
 **In: Boards ► Capes ► Discussion**

 **seagatherer**  
(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Brockton Bay really is the cape capital of the world. Two new capes in the Bay in less than a week!

This one's a healer, teaming up with Panacea, so don't expect to see her patrolling the streets. Word on the grapevine is she's only going to be around once or twice a week, so I'm guessing she probably lives out in the country or something.

E: No cameras allowed in the hospital, but here is a picture of her leaving the hospital with Panacea, courtesy of  SlowBuch.

Last edited: March 15, 2011

 **(Showing page 2 of 2)**

► **Dennis_Danger_Dynamite** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Does anyone know if White Mage takes requests?

► **Esceetwo** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
What? No way! Counting that Nazi chick, that puts three healers in one city. Totally unfair.

► **Natality**  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Maybe she'd be willing to relocate? I know we could really use a healer over here.

► **SlowBuch** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Dennis_Danger_Dynamite: No. No, Dennis. Bad idea. Panacea was helping her figure out her powers today. Turns out? It doesn't work on cancer. The results weren't pretty.

► **Dennis_Danger_Dynamite** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 15, 2011  
Damn.

 **End of Page.** **1, 2**

* * *

As Lisa read through the thread, she went ahead and pulled up the linked image. It wasn't the best, probably a cheap cell phone, but...

She blinked. She looked back over to the Paragon video she had playing in the corner and paused it.

 _White Mage's mask is identical to Paragon's._

She rewound the video and played it again.

 _Video shows Paragon observing warehouse from above, no skylight. Tinkertech mask. Two capes, identical tinkertech. Private commission? Style generic, coincidence possible. No freelance Tinkers in region. Toybox? Doesn't match known Toybox products. Mask demonstrates advanced miniaturization. Armsmaster? No. Doesn't fit his profile. Did not recognize Paragon or her mask._

She rocked back slightly.

 _Same backer. Has access to new, previously unknown Tinker. Backer's objective? Unknown._

Lisa closed her eyes and shook her head. She could do this. She opened her eyes and rewound the video again.

 _Paragon forming hero team, working with known independents, declined Protectorate position. Motives? Unclear. Fame? No. Money? No. Has control, trust issues. Dislikes authority. Doesn't want to take orders. Equal partner with mystery backer? Possible. Possibly_ is _mystery backer. Secondary Thinker power? Possible._

White Mage not openly part of team, getting close to New Wave instead. Infiltrator? Possible. If so, likely purpose? Infiltrate, eliminate New Wave? Unlikely. Coopt New Wave, help displace Protectorate as primary local hero team and eliminate gangs.

Probable endgame? Gangs eliminated, Protectorate marginalized, New Wave coopted, independent heroes recruited. Effective takeover of city.

Her head swimming, Lisa forced her eyes shut and managed to stave off a cackle, but she couldn't keep the manic grin off her face. Paragon - or her backer - was Coil's natural enemy.

"Lisa, you okay?"

She turned and grinned at a concerned Brian.

"Never better."

She could _use_ this.


	17. Orientation 2-7

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Orientation 2.7_

We ended up going to Fugly Bob's. _None_ of us were interested in shopping, and we certainly weren't dressed for, say, the beach. The library was out, because Taylor wasn't _quite_ ready to fully unmask to Amy; we'd already extended more trust than she was really comfortable with as it was.

Small steps.

I'd heard a lot about Fugly Bob's, both before and after I began cohabiting with Taylor. Greasy and rich, the best food in town, the best burgers on the east coast, probably in America, possibly in the world, but not a place for the health conscious.

Perfect for a couple of healers, since we could just fix up any health problems that cropped up, now that I thought about it.

And for the record? That reputation was well-founded. I'd eaten at some of the best burger franchises in America before the whole "becoming one with Taylor" thing happened, including both Five Guys and Whataburger - never stopped on the west coast long enough to try In-and-Out - so trust me when I say that Fugly Bob's really was that damn good.

We ate in companionable silence and were just finishing up when Amy pulled out a smartphone.

"What are you doing?" we asked.

"Checking PHO," she said. "You made quite an impression on Saturday."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said. "Thirty-eight pages, already. Have a look."

I had a mental double-take at what we saw. SpecificProtagonist was _real_ here? Yikes.

"That's... a lot of discussion," we observed as we leaned back.

She blinked. "You mean you didn't know?"

We shrugged. "I've been busy, and I don't exactly have internet access at home. I haven't even gotten around to getting verified on PHO yet."

Well, not as Paragon or White Mage, anyway. Our Weaver identity's online presence was pretty much eating up all our online time. On the plus side, the income from that should be enough to get us internet access at home soon.

"Oh," she said quietly. She paused, then asked, "Um, my sister's been wondering why you didn't invite her."

"Not much to say, really," we said. "We wanted this to be an independent operation. No offense, but we're not New Wave, and we'd rather avoid any confusion."

"I-I guess I can understand that," she said, nodding slowly.

None of us said anything for a while.

So I ordered some ice cream for both - all? - of us.

* * *

"Well, it's been fun," we said, "but... I really should get going now."

"Wait," Panacea said. "Will you-? I mean, I think we've got a pretty good handle on your power. Will you... will you be coming back?"

We blinked in confusion, then smiled. "Of _course_ I will, Amy. Barring, you know, _extenuating_ circumstances, of course." Hopefully, she knew what we meant by that.

"Of-of course!" she said, then abruptly pulled us into a hug, which we returned awkwardly.

After a moment, we broke apart and went our separate ways.

 _Something wrong, Taylor?_

 _N-no,_ she answered. _Nothing's wrong. It's just..._ She trailed off, but I could still get a sense of the direction her unformed thoughts were taking.

She was thinking about Emma, before she went crazy.

 _Oh._

What else was there to say?

 _You were right,_ she said finally, once we were changed and on our way home. Needless to say, we again did our shadowporting-between-buildings trick to further protect our identity.

 _Huh? About what?_

 _Amy,_ she clarified. _She needed a friend. Still does, really. Did you notice she's been eating lunch alone at school lately?_

 _I didn't until today, really,_ I admitted. _Now that I have, though, I wish I knew why. I mean, it's probably nothing, but..._ I resisted the urge to _actually_ shrug.

 _Yeah._

* * *

I suppose what happened at lunch the next day shouldn't have surprised me, but honestly, neither of us was exactly what you'd call "outgoing." Taylor had had Emma and would have had Tattletale. In my past life, I had had my own few particular friends that dragged me to social gatherings.

Since coming to Arcadia, we had Stella.

"Go on ahead, Stella," Taylor said. "I think I need some time away from New Wave right now."

"Okay, Tay," Stella chirped. "Later."

 _Taylor?_ It took me a moment to realize where we were heading. _Oh._

As we placed our tray on the table across from her, Amy Dallon scowled. "You can tell Vicky I'm fine."

"Vicky didn't ask me to check on you," Taylor said as we sat down. "I just thought you could use some company."

The biokinetic peered at us suspiciously but didn't object any further.

We ate in silence.

It was a long lunch.

"Thank you," Amy said quietly as we stood up. We paused and looked over to her questioningly. "For not asking."

"Any time."

* * *

One of the biggest problems we had at this stage was that I didn't have an exact timeline.

I knew, roughly, that it was two or three months from the locker to the Lung fight, when canon kicked off, and that Bakuda was a new recruit to the ABB when it happened. I knew the Lung fight happened before the bank robbery which served as a distraction from Coil kidnapping Dinah. And I... was _fairly_ certain the next Endbringer attack was going to be Leviathan, right here, in Brockton Bay.

Not all the 'fics I'd read were consistent on that; one had Behemoth attack instead, while another had Leviathan hitting Boston. Still, we had pestered Danny into adding Endbringer coverage to our home insurance, just in case.

We had... something resembling a plan. An overall strategy, at least.

The Merchants were the first step. Done.

Coil would keep until we could subvert the Undersiders. It wasn't like we could just assassinate him, after all. Well, maybe we could; we _had_ managed to pin down his identity: one Thomas Calvert. Still, that was a serious escalation neither of us was willing to take.

That wasn't the sort of hero this city needed.

Besides, from a practical standpoint, we didn't know if he was holing up somewhere else in his other timeline at any given moment, so any such attempt might fail and tip him off. We just had to keep Dinah out of his clutches, and that, we were fairly confident we could do, especially given what we'd done to keep watch over her. The visor wasn't the only piece of tinkertech we'd built.

It was the Azn Bad Boys and the Empire 88 that were the immediate problems. Take either one out too quickly, and we'd destabilize the fragile balance that made the shootout where we met Glory Girl for the second first time last week a rarity.

Bakuda still hadn't shown up in Brockton Bay; whether that was because she was keeping her head down like a Tinker should or because Lung hadn't recruited her yet, it was hard to say. Either way, she would be our priority target the moment she showed up. She was too dangerous and unpredictable. We had to stop her before she came up with her bright idea of recruitment-by-way-of-cranial-nuke, and if we could get her into PRT custody, the bombs she could make could be used against some of the biggest threats on Earth-Bet.

Either way, we couldn't whittle away at the ABB's capes like we could the Empire. Besides Bakuda, they had precisely two: Lung and Oni Lee, and taking out either one of them at this stage would embolden the Empire, leading to the gang war we wanted to avoid. Without Lung, the Empire could strike in force, confident in overwhelming whatever opposition they faced; if we took Oni Lee down, they could instead launch a multi-pronged assault, pinning Lung in place while they scooped up territory wherever he _wasn't_ without the threat of suddenly being swamped with suicide bombers.

Which meant, after establishing our rep against the Merchants, the Empire had to go next.

We stood, arms folded, as we looked over the rather ragtag looking band of heroes. Binary wasn't present - no surprise - but Browbeat was, along with new arrivals, Simon-

Command/Override.

-and Tag.

Transport/Mark.

Simon, despite what it sounded like, was actually his cape name; he had a Master ability to give a one-word order and have it be obeyed... for about five seconds. No surprise, then, that "Stop!" was his heroic catchphrase. His costume was very colorful, black with patches in red, green, blue, and yellow, including a full face mask.

Tag was a Mover. She could "tag" objects by touch, then teleport herself to them. If she had a range limit or a limit on how many objects she could tag, only she knew. She also wore body armor and had designed a fighting style around her teleportation. Her costume was an urban camo outfit, with an oversized set of blank dog tags hanging prominently from her neck and a balaclava. Her melee weapon of choice, a tonfa, hung on her belt.

We were still working on a tinkertech mask for Browbeat. It wouldn't be as good as our own, if only because we wanted to cut down on the build time. Ideally, everyone on the team - in the Alliance, as PHO had named us - would have one, which meant we had to be able to build them _fast_.

We weren't having much luck with that part.

"Are you fucking serious?" Simon drawled. "Taking on the Empire? With _us?_ "

"We're going to clean this city up, Simon," we said, "but we're not stupid. We have access to some... unique resources. If you're in, you get a new costume, tough enough to stop knives and pistols with no extra bulk or weight. Maybe a tinkertech mask with extra sensors, if we can swing it."

Simon and Tag exchanged looks.

"It's a chance to really make a difference."

"I'm in," Tag said.

Simon shook his head. "This is still nuts, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Browbeat said, waving it off. "You in or out?"

Simon threw his hands up. "Ah, what the hell."

* * *

It was Friday afternoon when we next went out as White Mage to volunteer at Brockton Memorial. In the intervening days, we'd managed to squeeze in enough time to register with the PRT as independent heroes and get verified on PHO, both as Paragon and White Mage.

We were about an hour in when Uber and Leet showed up.

* * *

A/N: A point of clarification, Miller's using the Shadowrun definition of "cranial nuke."


	18. Headhunting 3-1

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Headhunting 3.1_

We were taking a short break with Panacea in her little office when we heard it.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the voice came from the front lobby. "This is Uber!"

"And Leet!"

"Here for what we hope to be a very special episode!"

"Will Player Three, White Mage, please come forward?"

 _What._

We blinked, then stood up. Panacea caught our sleeve. "You shouldn't."

"I'll be fine," we assured her as we stepped out.

 _That's not possible,_ was my first reaction. _We checked. Final Fantasy doesn't exist here!_

One of them-

Knowledge/Boost.

Uber was dressed in bright red plate armor, matching the messy mop of hair - or was it a wig? - on his head. He carried a an oversized sword, which he was currently resting on his shoulder. A couple more swords hung at his hip, and chains added a bit more flair to the costume.

The other-

Index/&^$#%*&

 _What the hell was that?_

Leet was wearing a red cloak. White hair - probably a wig - peeked out from under a red, broad-rimmed hat that was also accentuated by a single, large, white feather. He was flourishing a rapier around dramatically.

In other words, they were dressed like Fighter and Red Mage.

"What the hell do you want?"

"White Mage," Leet called, "an opportunity has arisen in these troubled times!"

 _Oh, God,_ I thought. Well, it was more of a mental moan.

 _Why is he talking like that?_ Taylor asked.

 _He's in character._

"In these past few days, the Alchemists Three who terrorized the Unclaimed Lands have fallen, and the bandit army they led has fallen into disarray."

"Now is the time to strike!" Uber continued, waving his greatsword around dramatically. "To smash the bandit army once and for all! Will you join our party and accept this quest?"

"And if I say no?" we deadpanned.

Leet shrugged. "We go back to what we originally planned: Surgeon Simulator."

We both winced at that; the thought of _these two_ buffoons playing surgeon was pretty horrifying. I could sense Taylor's thoughts flying in a whirlwind as she - and I, for that matter - tried to figure out our next move.

"It'll just be a one-time thing," Uber assured us. "Just beating up some Merchants. They deserve it, right?"

"But why me?" we asked.

"With that name and costume, how could we not?" Leet retorted. "Final Fantasy was awesome; not their fault no one on Earth-Bet was interested in licensing it."

And that answered that. It figures it would be an obscure, pirated Earth-Aleph game. No wonder we couldn't find any reference to it searching the internet from the library and school computers.

We closed our eyes and rubbed our temples. "Fine."

"Yes!" Leet crowed as he pushed a button on his belt.

A recorded announcer voice boomed: "Player Three has joined the party!"

"And Player Four!"

We all blinked and turned. "Amy?" we asked.

"I'm not letting you go off with these two lunatics alone," she said, giving a curt nod for emphasis.

"Hey!" Leet protested.

"Well," Uber said, "at least we have a full party now." He elbowed Leet. "Hit the button," he hissed.

"Oh! Right."

"Player Four has joined the party!"

* * *

"You shouldn't have come," we told Panacea. We were trailing behind Uber and Leet as they ran rampant through Merchant territory. Leet preferred shooting lightning bolts from his rapier, while Uber seemed to enjoy batting his opponents aside with the flat of his blade. No one had gotten too badly hurt yet - nothing worse than a broken bone yet, anyway - but I was starting to worry how long that would last. Either way, we were leaving a trail of unconscious Merchant gangbangers for the BBPD to pick up, so there was that.

"You're my friend," she said.

"I _can_ take care of myself, you know," we reminded her. "If things go badly, and you get hurt..."

"Good thing you'll be around to heal me then, huh?" she quipped. "Besides, with me along, it'll be easier to explain you're only going along with this under duress. The last thing we need is for you to get labeled a villain."

She had a point, but I couldn't escape the nagging feeling that there was something off about her argument. I couldn't quite put my proverbial finger on it, though.

Had things gone smoothly, Uber and Leet would have just beat up a few drug-crazed gangbangers, and that would have been the end of it. But nooo... they just had to escalate.

And then Uber nearly cut one poor gangbanger in half.

"Shit!" we swore as we rushed to the upper half. "A- Panacea, can you reattach his lower torso?"

"I think so," she said, crouching down on the other side of the gangbanger.

We got to work.

It was touch and go for a bit. While his lower half was mostly salvageable, he'd already lost a lot of blood. We'd had to use our power to start regenerating his lower half so Panacea could use the biomass to replace his lost blood _while_ she worked on reattaching the rest of his body. It was complicated, it was messy, but it worked. After a few minutes, we managed to stabilize him.

We rose to our feet and turned to face the two gamer geek villains, who were lounging around like... like...

Like a couple of adventurers waiting for the cleric finish some healing or buffs.

We twitched at that.

"That's it," we declared. "We're done here. Go home, you two, before you do something we'll all regret."

"But-" Leet pouted, "but we're just getting into the swing of things! You can fix them up, right?"

"Don't you two get it? _I can't fix dead_."

Uber, for his part, was looking a little distracted. "Do you hear that?"

Everyone paused. Except Taylor. I could feel a faint smile cross our face, even as I listened for what Uber was talking about. It was a faint... buzzing?

The sound reached a peak as insects swarmed out of the woodwork, coalescing into a giant pile that seemed to pick itself up... finally resolving into a vaguely humanoid shape.

 _What. The. Hell?_

 _Meet Skitter,_ Taylor replied. Was that smugness? That felt like smugness.

"Panacea," we whispered, "let's get out of here."

"Right."

We slipped away as "Skitter" charged the two villains. Ducking into one of the buildings, we took stock.

"I have to go get my other costume," we said. "Will you be all right?"

She gave a thin smile. "I'll be fine."

It didn't take us long to find a spot to shadowport from, get changed, and shadowport to another nearby building as Paragon.

I didn't have access to the bug control, and while I knew it gave Taylor some ridiculous multitasking, I wasn't about to distract her any more than absolutely necessary, so I wasn't sure what to expect when we returned.

When we returned, hovering over the battlefield, Uber had lost his greatsword and was wielding...

 _Seriously?_ I goggled briefly. _Sword-chucks? That is complete bullshit. How do these guys even know about 8-Bit Theater?_

"Thanks for keeping them occupied, Skitter," we said, gently floating down behind them. "That's enough, boys. Are you two going to come quietly?"

Leet spun and twirled his rapier. "Thunder!"

We smirked at that. We, naturally, had Browbeat's power active, but on the way over, we'd carefully selected our second active power.

Electricity/Channel.

This one, we'd picked up from Manpower during the costume fitting last week as Weaver.

The lightning bolt parted a hair's breadth before striking us, and we strode toward him calmly, letting the electricity "wash" across us, adding to the illusion of our invulnerability.

Electrokinesis was fun. While it didn't allow us to generate electricity, there was a lot we _could_ do with it, but we didn't want to break cover yet.

We charged.

* * *

 _I'm surprised they were both still standing when we got back,_ I commented as the PRT loaded Uber and Leet into one of their vans.

Honestly, with just Browbeat and Manpower's powers - and without Leet having prepared to take us on - we pretty much steamrolled them. They simply weren't able to hurt us.

 _I didn't want to kill them,_ Taylor replied. _Even if we could heal them afterwards, hurting them that much would have been wrong._

I couldn't argue with that. It _would_ have been more than a little hypocritical.

"Paragon?"

"Yes, Officer Weathers?" Todd Weathers had been the one to take our statement, including what we "knew" about Skitter, allegedly a reclusive monstrous cape with a male self-identity. He had been taking Panacea's statement just a moment ago.

"According to Panacea, she was accompanying another hero," Weathers said. He checked his notes. "A healer by the name of White Mage."

"I'll look around and make sure she's okay," we assured him. "Will that be all?"

Weathers glanced back at Uber and Leet, then looked back at us and nodded. "Yes, that'll be all, ma'am."

We nodded and flew off. And then, once again, found a place to shadowport, get changed, and shadowport again. We rejoined Panacea as White Mage, and the two of us headed back to the hospital in silence.

Finally, we took a seat in Panacea's little office.

"So," she said meaningfully.

We blinked. "So...?"

"A Case Fifty-Three made up of bugs named Skitter just _happens_ to make his debut when you need help, long enough for you to get away and return as Paragon," she deadpanned. "And you just _happen_ to already know Skitter in your Paragon identity, _despite_ this being his first public appearance."

 _We are sooo busted,_ I concluded.

"...yes?"

Still, hope sprang eternal.

"You're Weaver too, aren't you?"

We winced. _Yeah,_ Taylor agreed. _Totally busted._ "...maybe."

Panacea closed her eyes and began rubbing her temples. "Counting their civilian lives, most capes get by with _two_ identities," she said finally. " _Why_ do you need _five?_ "

"It just sort of... happened?" we offered. And yes, it sounded lame to us too. I could feel our cheeks heating up. At the look she gave us, we continued, "I mean, you _know_ why I created the White Mage identity, and Skitter was kind of a spur of the moment thing."

"And Weaver and Paragon?"

"Weaver was _supposed_ to be temporary," we mumbled. "A throwaway identity while I finished my Paragon costume, but with the PRT looking at my civilian side... well, better they find the rogue who's selling them spider silk body armor rather than the independent hero who's been showing them up."

She blinked. "Your civilian identity? Why-?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Taylor said firmly, cutting her off.

She blinked at that, and I could almost see her connecting the dots.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly. "I see."

The room went silent again.

"Soooo," she said, a sly smile cross her face, "what's with Weaver's royal 'we'?"

We blushed again.


	19. Headhunting 3-2

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Headhunting 3.2_

Leet's power was a bust. It wasn't passive - I could keep it in one of my active slots - but it didn't seem to actually _do_ anything, which was a big disappointment. Was it broken somehow? I vaguely recalled something about that.

That aside, after the unplanned reveal to Amy, our appointment with the Wards was going to be, in many ways, a relief.

I should clarify.

After the unplanned reveal to Amy, _Weaver's_ appointment with the Wards was going to be, in many ways, a relief.

 _I still don't see how you can be looking forward to this,_ Taylor complained. _They were_ Sophia's _teammates._

 _And the moment anyone found out what she was doing to us - to you, I mean - they shit-canned her,_ I reminded her. _From what I understand, Taylor, they weren't too fond of Sophia either._

 _All right,_ she groused as we stepped out of the building we'd used to change into our Weaver costume and began walking to PRT headquarters.

* * *

Okay, not as much of a relief as I had expected.

 _Crap crap crap crap crap..._

That was me about ten minutes later, after we met the Wards, and for the first time, we were able to look at Vista-

Space/Warp.

-and Aegis through my cape sight.

Only... Aegis wasn't registering on my cape sight. Like, at all. Which meant the Carlos from school probably _was_ Aegis after all. That revelation wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact _I didn't know why_ he didn't show up.

 _Cut it out!_

Taylor's mental voice snapped me out of my panic loop.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor smiled and said, "Now, this may seem weird, but don't worry. They're entirely under our control, and it's perfectly safe. We used the same method to get measurements for New Wave. Who'd like to go first?"

There was some definite hesitation.

"I'll go first," Aegis said, stepping forward.

"All right, then," we said. "Hold still."

You know, the problem with masks is that we didn't get to see their faces as they freaked out over being covered with bugs. Pity.

To give Aegis credit, he was able to hold _mostly_ still. I considered suggesting we use the power we'd picked up from Gallant, but quickly decided against it. It would help, and it was pretty subtle... but it was better not to take the chance.

The rest of the fitting went mostly without incident. Vista complained, loudly at that, but that was about it. Clockblocker held up remarkably well. From what I'd heard of him in fanon, I expected him to completely freak out. I guess we- err, Taylor must have traumatized him pretty badly in the canon timeline.

Of course, not _everything_ could go smoothly.

As we finished up, we received a "request" to meet with the director. We followed the PRT operative to the director's office and soon found ourselves facing Director Emily Piggot herself. The resident Wall expy.

"Weaver."

"Director," we returned the greeting. "May we ask what this is about?"

"Certainly," she said. "I just want to touch base with you while you happen to be on site. It's rare for a parahuman to apply their unique talents to legitimate business enterprises. Have you thought about your future?"

 _This is out of character for her,_ I warned. _She's fishing for something._

We smiled. "We're doing quite well and have a number of additional options on the table."

"I see. Have you considered a closer relationship with the PRT? The Wards program, perhaps?"

 _This doesn't make sense,_ I thought. _Bug control would be a PR nightmare._

 _They probably want an exclusive on the silk._

 _...probably._

"We're afraid you must be mistaken, Director," we said. "If you'll check our paperwork, you'll find we're of majority and therefore ineligible for Wards membership." It had simply been easier to get our Weaver identity listed as eighteen on the paperwork to start the business. "And if you're thinking of the Protectorate, we're afraid we must decline."

"May I ask why?"

"Three reasons, really," we answered with a shrug. "First, arthropod control is an... inappropriate power for hero work, something we learned after our initial forays as a hero before we decided to become a rogue, and second, given our low overhead, there isn't much financial incentive to any sort of exclusive contract. Operating independently allows us more freedom in who we serve, thus improving our profit margins considerably."

"Greater profits, perhaps," she said, "but greater risk. Given the combat applications of your spider silk, a great many people would want to recruit you. And few of them would be willing to take 'no' for an answer. We can protect you."

We snorted. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Very well." She sighed. "And if I may ask, your third reason?"

We paused, lips pursed.

 _Well?_ Taylor prompted. _You're the one who said "three."_

 _Yeah, but..._ She considered my thoughts, then gave a mental nod.

 _We wanted them to figure out this identity anyway,_ she reminded me.

"We're aware of the Shadow Stalker... incident a few months ago," we said finally. "The fact that a minor who was on probation under the PRT's oversight got away with torturing an innocent teenager for _months_ with no disciplinary action at all makes us question whether your organization is corrupt or merely incompetent. Whichever it is, we are disinclined to form closer ties at this time." We paused again. "Maybe if you cleaned house _properly_ instead of just papering over the more extreme cases, we might reconsider."

I could see her hand reflexively clenching into a fist. We'd struck a nerve with that one. Good. Hopefully, that would be enough to goad her into looking at her people more closely, if only to spite us. If we were _really_ lucky, she might actually find some of Coil's moles, but we weren't going to hold our breath for that; at the very least, any such action from her would make things more difficult for them. And the most we'd lost was having unofficially confirmed our cape identity... as a law-abiding rogue and legitimate businesswoman providing a valuable service to the PRT.

Win-win.

"If there's nothing else...?" we asked.

"No, Weaver," she bit out. "Nothing else. You may go."

Once we were out of her office, I could feel the tension leaving our body, and we were a little surprised when Gallant waved us over. He hadn't needed a fitting, since his "costume" was actually a suit of tinkertech powered armor.

"Gallant, I presume?"

"Uh, yeah," he said awkwardly. "Listen, Weaver, could you do me a favor?"

I crossed my arms. "What kind of favor?" Given the meeting we just left, we weren't feeling particularly accommodating.

He sighed. "It's Vicky," he said. "Glory Girl, I mean. We had a... conversation recently, and she's really worried about... well, about something I can't really talk about."

We rolled our eyes.

"Anyway, she's been trying to get in touch with Paragon through her PHO account," - Paragon had a verified account, but we didn't check it regularly; most of our online time was spent on Weaver's accounts - "and there are rumors you make costumes for the Alliance. If you could, I dunno, pass on a message to her to get in touch? Or at least check her PHO messages?"

 _Do you know what this might be about?_ Taylor asked.

 _Not a clue._

"No promises," we said. "We have a very busy schedule."

Which was, technically, true. We just wore different masks for different parts of it. The fact that we didn't need active control to keep our black widows working was a secret that meant anyone from the outside looking in would vastly overestimate how much of Weaver's time was occupied with the actual weaving.

Just another layer of deception.

"Also, please don't tell her I asked you to do this," he added. "I'd... rather Vicky didn't find out I was meddling."

"We won't," we promised.

"Thanks," he said gratefully. "I'll owe you."

"We'll keep that in mind," we assured him as we left.

 _We need to find out what this is,_ I concluded. _Just because I don't know what's going on doesn't meant it's not important. Butterfly effect._

 _Agreed._

* * *

When we got home and checked our Paragon PHO account, we found thirty-nine private messages waiting for us. Thirty-one of them were from various fans with inane requests. Five were from other members of the Alliance, discussing the intel on possible targets. It would still be a while before the spider silk costumes were done for the rest of the team, so recon was the order of the day until then.

Two were from Glory Girl.

 **Glory_Girl:** _Paragon, it's Glory Girl. Can we meet? I need some help._  
 **Glory_Girl:** _Seriously, it's important. It's about Amy._

 _Well, that's not ominous at all,_ I deadpanned.

 _Considering what you told me about Amy's power?_ Taylor replied. _Yeah, I'd say that's a bad sign._

 _On the bright side,_ I offered, _there haven't been any reports of any sudden outbreaks in town, so at least it's not the worst case scenario._

 _That's really not much comfort._

Regardless, it was obviously something serious, so we sent a reply, agreeing to meet.

The last private message was just as worrisome.

 **All_Seeing_Eye:** _Know your secret. Want to meet. Have intel on your competition._

 _"Competition"?_

 _Not a clue._

If only I could figure out why the All_Seeing_Eye user name sounded so familiar...


	20. Headhunting 3-3

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Headhunting 3.3_

We met up with Glory Girl first, on the roof of a high rise downtown. Whatever this was about, it obviously had her worried, as she was already pacing around liked a caged tiger when we arrived.

We were five minutes early.

"Glory Girl," we said as we touched down.

"Paragon," she said, turning toward us and surprising us with an exuberant hug. "I'm glad you came," she said as she let go and pulled back.

"What's this about?" we asked.

"It's Amy," she said, heaving a sigh. "I'm really worried about her, and I... I don't know what to do." She paused. "She looks up to you, I think."

We blinked. "She does?" That was a surprise. Amy hadn't given that us impression at all, to any of our identities.

Glory Girl nodded. "That first time we met? After that, she started, well, spending more time volunteering at the hospitals. She had rules. One of them was to limit herself, two hours a day, no more, but I think meeting another healer who could actually go out and fight crime made her think she wasn't doing enough."

 _Crap._

 _What's wrong?_ Taylor asked. _We already knew how much time she was spending at the hospital._

 _We_ didn't _know she'd had a rule against that,_ was my answer. _Amy - and her biodad, for that matter - have a_ thing _for personal rules. If she's broken this one... is she going to break any others?_

Glory Girl threw her hands up. "Gah! I'm explaining this all wrong. Listen, Amy and I have always been close, but I'm pretty sure she had a crush on my boyfriend." She waved her hands vaguely. "But then, she had one date, and now she's avoiding me."

"'Date'?"

"Amy's lonely," she said with a shrug. "I figure she needs someone in her life besides me, so I've been setting her up with some guys I know - good guys, really! - but this time... I don't know. She actually got _mad_ at me about it. She _never_ gets mad at me. I thought, I dunno, maybe Brandon had gotten fresh or something, so I, uh, had a few words with him about it, but that wasn't it," she began to ramble, "and then she met this new healer, White Mage, and now, she's avoiding me, spending all her time in one hospital or another, and she's no longer feeling jealous when she's around me and my boyfriend, which is almost never nowadays, and-"

"Glory Girl, breathe," we interrupted. This... was not at all like the confident flying brick we had met before.

She stopped, taking a deep breath, and said, "I think Amy's being Mastered."

 _What?_

 _What?_

"What?" Had I been in control of our body, I probably would have facepalmed.

"I think White Mage may have Mastered Amy," she repeated, "but I can't just go beating her face in." No. No, she really couldn't. "What if I'm wrong?" she continued. "She's done so much for Ames just _being_ there with her, even if it is only part-time."

 _She_ is _wrong, right?_

 _I can't see how we could have._

"So why come to me?"

She slumped against the wall of the roof access. "Who else would I go to, Paragon?" she asked, holding her hands up and shrugging. "Dad can't help, Aunt Sarah's too busy and would tell Mom, and if someone told Mom, she'd _have_ to notify the PRT. Do you _know_ what Master/Stranger protocols are like? Ames... ever since she got her powers, she's been under a lot of pressure, all the time, no matter what I did to try to get her to relax. But now... now, she actually seems happy with this White Mage girl. I want- I want to believe it's genuine, but if it's not... I have to help her. But if it _is_ , M/S protocols would break her. Worse, she'd feel I betrayed her for nothing, and she'd be _right_."

"So, wait," we said, frowning. "It's either family or me?"

"Or the PRT," she pointed out. "She... doesn't have a lot of friends, and I need someone who can _talk_ to her. I mean, sure, there's a girl at our school who likes to eat lunch with Amy - I think she has a crush on her, actually - and I'm pretty sure Ames likes Weaver, from how she was acting when we got fitted for our new costumes, but I wouldn't want to get a civilian or a rogue involved in this. That leaves you."

...

I had no words for that. I really, really didn't. Neither did Taylor, as far as I could tell.

"Okay," we said finally. "I'll, uh, I'll talk to her, maybe look into White Mage, see what I can find out."

She beamed. "Thanks."

* * *

 _Okay, so who_ could _be Mastering Amy, and why?_ Taylor asked as we flew to another hidey-hole to teleport to our next meeting.

 _Let me think,_ I mused. _She said something about Amy no longer being jealous around her and her boyfriend. Given Dean's receptive empathy, that means whoever's responsible messed with her emotions, which rules out Regent, the only local human-controlling Master, so we're looking at either an out of towner or some new trigger we butterflied into existence. Um, Nice Guy's dead, right?_

 _Who?_

 _A Slaughterhouse Nine member. I think,_ I answered, a frown crossing our face. _Even if he isn't - dead, I mean - we probably would have heard if they were in town. Um, Cherish could do it, but she's also S-Nine... though I'm not sure if she's joined yet. Nothing Endbringer-related's come up that would attract Valefor, and I think we would have heard if Heartbreaker or any of his other kids were in town._

 _...do I want to know why members of the_ Slaughterhouse Nine _top your list of suspects?_ She paused, but I didn't answer. _They're coming to town, aren't they?_

 _Not until after next Endbringer attack,_ I assured her. That, at least, all the 'fics had been consistent on. Well, barring the ones that were _explicitly_ about the Nine coming to town earlier.

 _And why would you suspect a_ dead _guy first?_

 _Well..._ I hesitated, _there_ was _, um, this part with clones called the Slaughterhouse Nine Thousand arc..._

Her next thoughts didn't come in the form of words, but there was no mistaking the horror and fear that came with the mental image of nine thousand omnicidal capes. I didn't blame her. The idea gave me the heebie-jeebies, even if I was fairly certain the term was just an exaggeration based on the DBZ meme.

At least, I really hoped it was. Actually, what I _really_ hoped for was for it to never happen, but without knowing exactly how it came about in canon, I wasn't going to hold our breath on that.

 _Anyway, I think there was also some guy called... August Prince? All I know's the name, though._

 _We'll have to look him up, then._

We teleported to a building a block away from the meeting site and approached discreetly. Before we left, we had run the PM through a tinkertech analyzer. Whoever it was _seemed_ to be genuine, no hint of a trap, and was desperate for help.

Tinkers really were bullshit.

Even if it was accurate, however, that didn't mean it wasn't an ambush. People who were desperate could easily be monitored by the people who _made_ them desperate, hence our stealthy approach. My cape sight identified All_Seeing_Eye while we were still out of line of sight.

It was Tattletale.

That was bad. With what her power could do and the secrets I knew, if I took control, she'd learn - or confirm, given what her PM had claimed - far too much. On the other hand, if Taylor held the reins, her - _our_ \- identities were pretty much doomed. Lisa wasn't likely to break the unwritten rules, but I didn't want to risk putting Da- Danny in danger.

 _We really need to work on the swarm voice._

 _"We," our pretty little ass,_ came the miffed reply. _That's all me, and you know it._

Well, at least she was getting over those self-image issues Emma had given her.

We debated for a bit how to handle it, but ultimately, we decided to go ahead while adding a layer of separation to give her power as little to work on as possible. By which I mean we shadowported behind her, left a spare burner phone, then 'ported away and called it.

"Tattletale."

"Paragon. Aww, and here I was hoping we could meet face to face. What's the matter? Don't you trust me?"

"What do you want, Tattletale?"

She was silent for a moment.

"Listen," she said, "I know what you and your partners are planning."

 _"Partners"?_ I wondered.

 _The Alliance?_

 _Can't be._ I shook our head. _We've all but announced our intentions from the rooftops. It isn't something she'd boast about knowing._

We waited silently. The less we responded, the fewer cues we would give her power.

"All right, fine," she finally said with a huff. "If you really want this city, you've got another major problem besides the Empire and the ABB."

 _Ah, so that's what this is about._

"We're well aware of your employer and his... _capabilities_ ," we assured her. "Along with the, ah, terms of your contract. That is, in fact, why I'm talking to you through through a burner phone. The less you know, the less he can torture out of you without you knowing."

"...fuck, you really mean that. How?"

"His power," we told her. No reason not to keep it from, really, and a lot of reasons to tell her. "He can split the timeline in two, live both in parallel, taking different actions in each, then choose which one he keeps. You're a smart girl. Think how a man as ruthless as him would use it."

"You know more than that, don't you?"

"I thought _you_ had information for _me?_ " we countered.

"I- fuck," she swore. "I didn't expect you to already know about him. And now I owe you." She sounded genuinely annoyed.

 _Must. Not. Smirk._

"How about this, then?" we offered. "Lung's been off the radar lately. If you have any intel on him, we'll call it even."

"Surprised you hadn't heard," she commented. That sounded... honest, actually. We were a new hero assembling a team; there was no way we'd have the kind of information network she had. What on Earth did she think we were up to?

"He hasn't been in town," she continued. "Word is, he was recruiting from out of state. He just got back a few days ago."

A chill ran down our spine as I came to the obvious conclusion.

Bakuda.


	21. Headhunting 3-4

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Headhunting 3.4_

Bakuda. The mad bomber.

Okay, Tattletale hadn't actually told us who Lung had recruited, and we hadn't asked, but so far, my out of context knowledge was largely holding true, and it fit the timeline, from what I knew. I knew Armsmaster would tell Taylor - us? - about Bakuda, the ABB's new recruit, in his pitch to let him take credit for Lung in the canon timeline.

Still, that shifted our priorities around. It meant putting the Empire on the back burner for a bit - the rest of the Alliance wasn't going to like that - and delaying Project Overwatch even further.

Well, Overwatch had always been a relatively low priority anyway. It had the potential to be a huge boon in the long run, but there were just too many things that needed taken care of in the short term for us to spend as much time focusing on the long term as we wanted to just yet.

Speaking of priorities, the potential extinction level event came before the potential destruction of the eastern seaboard.

...

No, the _other_ potential extinction level event, the one that was our friend. The golden idiot could wait for now.

* * *

We met her on the roof of the hospital after her volunteering time ended. It wasn't a day we were expected to show up as White Mage, so rather than break our routine, we decided to just pay a visit as Paragon. Vicky would be expecting that anyway, and it wasn't like it was the first time we'd dropped by.

"Hello, Panacea."

"Paragon." She nodded in greeting. "What's up?"

We paused to consider how to answer that. "Something came up yesterday. It's sort of urgent."

She frowned. "Urgent? And you couldn't talk to me about it at lunch?"

We froze. "Excuse me?"

Amy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I'm not stupid, you know," she said. She gave a quick look around before walking closer. "Listen, there are generally three kinds of people who hang out with me: Vicky's friends who get dragged along, people who want to be Vicky's friends, and people who want to bug me about either healing or cape stuff. You, clearly, were none of the above. Once you started going out of your way to eat with me, it wasn't that hard to figure out, especially since you confirmed your other IDs for me."

We winced.

"I really suck at this secret identity thing, huh?"

"Yes," she agreed, nodding sagely. "Yes, you do."

* * *

We at least had the consolation that, so far as Amy could tell, no one _else_ had figured us out, small comfort as that was. We ended up having a light afternoon snack - a couple of sandwiches - at an outdoor cafe on the Boardwalk. In civvies. There was no point trying to hide it from Amy, after all, and any of our cape identities would have only drawn _more_ attention. She seemed a bit pensive as we ate, but several bites in, a sly grin crossed her face.

"Is this a date?"

"Wait, what?" We coughed on our beverage: water, since Taylor and I still disagreed strongly on the subject of what made good tea. She preferred black tea with milk, while I was of the firm opinion that green tea, unadulterated by additives, reigned supreme.

"Well," she said, "Vicky thinks you might have a crush on me. She actually gave me advice the other day on how to let you down easy, since I'm apparently already dating you."

We blinked at that, trying to parse her statement. "Wait, _what?_ "

She giggled. "Sorry. Vicky thinks Taylor has a crush on me, so she gave me advice on how to let you down easy, since she thinks I'm already in a relationship with White Mage."

 _This..._ isn't _a date, is it?_ Taylor asked, worry in her thoughts.

 _Why are you asking me?_ I asked. _Last I checked, you don't swing that way, do you?_

 _What? No!_ she answered hurriedly. _No, I don't. I like guys. But what about you?_

 _Your life; I'm just along for the ride, remember?_ I reminded her. _Even if that weren't the case, she's too young for me._ I felt a wave of relief with a spike of... concern? What, did she really think I was going to try picking up older women while I was in her body?

"No," we said, shaking our head, having gotten that sorted out. "This is not a date. I'm straight." Which was true, for both of us, even. It's just that I also happened to be transgendered, and unless I found a way to get my own separate body, I always would be.

She pouted. "So, what was so urgent yet not urgent, then?"

"Actually, it's about Vicky," we said. "She's freaking out. She thinks I'm Mastering you."

Her eyes went wide, and one hand went to her mouth.

"Oh, God. She- she didn't hurt you, did she?"

"What?" We blinked, then shook our head again. "Oh! No, she asked Paragon to check up on you and see if White Mage was Mastering you."

She very carefully set her half-eaten sandwich down, rested her elbows on the table, and buried her face in her hands. "That's not as funny from this end. This is going to get really confusing really fast."

"Yeah, yeah," we groused, "so spill already. She says you had a rule on how much time you spend volunteering at the hospital. Why would you break that?"

"To get away from Vicky," she admitted, looking away. "I... when you healed me, you healed more than the bullet wound."

We frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Addiction's not purely psychological," she said, in what sounded at first like a non sequitur. "It's a matter of brain chemistry, and long-term exposure can cause lasting changes. Arguably a form of brain damage."

Oh. Our eyes widened. _Oh._

Why hadn't we figured that out?

"It's the same with emotions and powers that affect them," she continued quietly. "Like, say, Vicky's aura."

We reached out and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. She stiffened, then looked at us accusingly.

"You knew," she said. "You knew what she'd done to me."

"I... suspected."

" _How_ did you know?"

I searched for an answer for her. I didn't have one. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Taylor said, taking charge. "Chalk it up to a weird power thing."

That was certainly an interesting way to put it.

 _Well, it sort of is,_ Taylor pointed out. _It's a kind of precog, and precog's a power._

 _...point._

Amy gave us an odd look, but before we could say anything, we looked over her shoulder and were treated to the singularly unwelcome sight of a certain redhead approaching us with a malicious smile on her face.

 _Fuck!_ I could feel our body trembling, and I understood. Taylor - _we_ \- had thought we were done with her when the transfer to Arcadia had finally gone through. She was beneath us, _behind_ us, and we'd relaxed our guard. But given the nasty smile on our- _Taylor's_ former best friend's face, it looked like she wasn't going to let this opportunity go.

 _Relax,_ I assured Taylor. _Let me handle this._

 _A-all right._

"Hello, Tayyylor. Fancy seeing you here. Who's the tramp?"

Huh. Emma clearly didn't recognize Amy, which was odd, given her status as a local celebrity. And didn't Brandish work with Mr. Barnes? Maybe it was because she was out of costume?

Amy's hand squeezed ours angrily, and I gave a comforting squeeze back.

"Emma!" I said with false cheer. I turned back to Amy. "Amy, have you met Emma Barnes? I think your mom works with her dad."

"I... don't think so..." Amy said, giving us a strange look.

"Well," I plowed on, "as I said, this is Emma, my former best friend before she made a _new_ friend and decided to spend a year and a half betraying a lifetime of trust in order to make my life hell for kicks. They even stole my mother's flute, one of the last things I had to remember her by."

Both of them stared at us, Amy in disbelief, Emma in outrage.

"Of course, when I proved too _strong_ for them to break that way, the locker came next," I added before either of them could respond. "I'm sure you've heard about it."

Amy's grip tightened again. "That was _her?_ "

"And her friends," I said with a shrug, turning to face Amy fully. I pointedly tuned Emma out, intent on ignoring her and bulldozing through if she tried to interrupt. "Turns out, the one who actually pushed me in is a sociopathic _criminal_ who broke probation with that, so she's cooling her heels in juvie."

Actually, a bit of online research had found unconfirmed reports that Shadow Stalker had been spotted at the Madison Exclusion Zone, supporting the rumor Stella had taken as fact. I wasn't sure which was worse.

Amy nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. Assault, battery, false imprisonment... actually, that would upgrade the assault to aggravated assault, so that's two felonies right there. Was the part about used tampons left over winter break true?" I nodded. "That adds conspiracy, then. Heck, you might even be able to make a case for attempted murder, but it probably wouldn't stick. I mean, unless the locker was bigger than any school locker I've ever heard of, you very well could have died in there." She then began listing the various medical hazards involved; it was nice that she was playing along.

I rolled our neck. "While I'd be surprised if she hasn't actually killed someone, I still have a _little_ faith that Emma's not so far gone she'd actually knowingly help a murderer." I paused, noting Emma's suddenly very pale face out of the corner of our eyes with satisfaction, then made a show of turning to face her again. "Oh, Emma, are you still here?" I shook our head. "Oh, silly me. Where are my manners? You did ask. Emma, this is my friend, Amy."

"That's Amy _Dallon_ ," Amy clarified sweetly. "You might know me better as Panacea." She gave our hand another squeeze, this one more comforting than angry. "Not that it matters much. From that 'tramp' comment, I'll assume you and your family have some moral objection to _ever_ using my services."

Ouch. That might be a little... harsh. Then again, Amy could be pretty vindictive at times.

 _You're one to talk,_ Taylor commented. _You've got a pretty vindictive streak yourself._

 _I firmly maintain that a little vindictiveness is healthy for you,_ I told her. _Living life as a doormat will only lead you to being shoved into a giant cyborg powered by your mother's soul and sent to fight Endbringers._

 _That's... oddly specific._

 _Sorry. Inside joke._

I felt our mouth twist in a soft frown. _And_ I'm _not on the inside?_

 _It's a reference to a Japanese anime,_ I elaborated, _one that never got released on Earth-Bet, since Behemoth pretty much killed any interest in fiction featuring nigh-unstoppable giant monsters._

"You know," Amy mused aloud, interrupting our silent conversation - huh, I hadn't even noticed Emma leave; what else had I missed? - "I'm pretty sure you've got a pretty good case if you want to bring a civil suit. If you'd like, I can talk to Carol about it."

We shook our head. "The school board already settled out of court."

"I meant against her personally," she clarified. "For assault, battery, and intentional infliction of emotional distress, if nothing else."

We stared at her.

"Just something for you to think about while you explain to me just _what the hell is going on with your brain_."

* * *

A/N: Well, that was cathartic. Wasn't really expecting Emma to show up.


	22. Headhunting 3-5

**Administrative Assistant**  
 _Headhunting 3.5_

"My brain?" we echoed, blinking at her. "What, um, what do you mean?"

"It _changed_ ," Amy stated. "When you saw that girl, there was a lot of activity."

"What _kind_ of activity?" we asked with a frown.

She waved it off. "Most of it was normal. For example, activity in your corona pollentia and gemma spiked, but after what she did, I don't blame you for having your powers on a hair trigger. No, the weird part is what happened with your frontal lobe, your motor cortex in particular. It was like parts of it just... stopped talking to each other. That shouldn't be _possible_. Or rather, you shouldn't have been able to _do_ anything with your brain like that."

"And... now?" we asked.

"It's normal now," she said. "Well, mostly. There's still a lot more activity in there than most people, but that seems to be your normal baseline." Well, that, at least, made sense. She tilted her head. "So, what was it?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you what that means." What she was saying just didn't make any sense. It wasn't like Taylor and I had separate brains, after all; I'd think we'd have noticed that. Well, okay, Taylor _technically_ also had all the bug brains to run her mind on, but I didn't have anything like that. If I did, I'd be walking around in _that_ body instead. "Whatever it is, though, I doubt it's anything to worry about."

She sighed. "I suppose. Powers _are_ pretty weird sometimes. I just- I worry."

"You shouldn't," we said, clasping her hand in ours. "Unlike you, I can heal myself if it comes down to it. I'm not one of your patients, Amy. I'm not your responsibility."

"I don't _care_ about my patients!" she snapped. "I care about _you!_ " We blinked, and she winced. "Wait. That- that came out wrong. I mean, of _course_ I care about my patients, but I don't care about them the same way I care about you. I don't... I don't have a lot of friends."

"That makes two of us." _Well, three._ "And Amy? Thank you."

"For worrying about you?"

I felt our head shake. "For standing up for me. No one's ever done that before."

 _You know,_ I mused thoughtfully after a moment. _I don't think that's entirely fair. It's not like you gave your father much of a_ chance _to._

 _Shut up. We're having a bonding moment here._

* * *

We still didn't know what to tell Glory Girl. I was all for "the truth," personally, but Amy... well, she wasn't too keen on that idea, and neither was Taylor. I could sort of see their point too. It would hurt Glory Girl and make things awkward for the Dallon sisters, and it wasn't like there was anything they could really do about it now, after all.

So I was effectively outvoted.

With regard to Amy's suggestion we file a civil suit against any of the trio, we had quickly decided against it. We had too much on our plate as it was, we'd gotten plenty of satisfaction right there at that cafe, and any financial pay out would, frankly, be chump change compared to what we'd already gotten from the school board. The Barneses were upper class, but they weren't _that_ rich, and with Weaver Designs supplementing Danny's pay from the Association, we weren't hurting for money anyway. While we didn't have all the resources we really wanted for our tinkering, that was usually more a matter of access than funding these days.

Besides, such a suit could easily turn into a PR problem for New Wave, since Carol worked at the same firm. To avoid that, Carol would have to take the lead, and I knew Amy had issues with her adoptive mother. We couldn't ask that of her. And tort law wasn't Carol's specialty anyway.

 _Miller?_ Taylor's mental voice broke me out of my musings as we walked home.

 _Yeah?_

 _You've already been through high school and did pretty well, right?_

 _Sixth in my graduating class, why?_

 _Well,_ she hesitated, _I was thinking maybe you could just sleep while I'm in class._

 _?_

Her next few thoughts came in a rush. _That way, you could stay up while I sleep at night and work on Project Overwatch._

Had I been in control at the time, I'm pretty sure I would have stumbled. As it was, I did blink. The idea had occurred to me, but I had avoided mentioning it. Or even thinking about it, if I could.

That had been the proverbial elephant in the room ever since that night we first talked about our powers. We'd avoided the subject since then, and I'd made sure to go to sleep before she did and wake her up the moment I woke up each day. I tried not to take control of our body without asking unless time was critical.

Anyone with even a passing familiarity with Worm knew Taylor had trust issues and control issues. Authority issues too, but that wasn't what mattered here.

 _Are you sure?_ I asked tentatively. There were... multiple layers to my question, and I'm pretty sure she picked up on all of them. The advantage of sharing headspace, I guess.

We arrived home in silence.

 _Yeah,_ she said finally as we headed for our room. _Yeah, I am. You were right. I_ wasn't _really being fair when I told Amy no one's stood up for me before. Because_ you _did. So yeah. I trust you._

That... wow. That meant a _lot_.

 _And Miller?_ she added.

 _Yeah?_

 _Thank you. For everything._

 _Hey, I live here too,_ I reminded her.

* * *

That night, I tried to stay awake without disturbing Taylor. For me, adjusting my sleep cycle has always been easier by forcing myself to stay awake when I was sleepy rather than trying to sleep when I wasn't.

That made my night a little rough, but it was otherwise uneventful, and I had no trouble dropping off during school the next day. The following night found me in the basement while Taylor slept. I spent the first couple of hours working on the masks we'd promised the rest of the Alliance before inspiration struck, and I started putting together our second drone. I haven't mentioned our first one yet, have I?

The Semi-Autonomous Machine Specialized for Observation and Notification had been designed to keep an unobtrusive eye on Dinah Alcott and alert us in case Coil made a move on her earlier than expected. That necessitated a certain amount of autonomy, along with a lot of bells and whistles, including a stealth field generator that concealed it from just about any detection system we could think of. The stealth field generator didn't scale up very well, which was a pity. And strange. Didn't Squealer build an invisible tank or something like that in canon?

In comparison, the Remote Observation Drone was a lot simpler. No complex decision-making capabilities needed, just a basic decision tree to let it follow verbal commands and maybe some conversation algorithms to give it some personality. Video recording and transmission, with a microphone and speakers for two-way audio. The trickiest part was the anti-grav hover system, but despite all that, it was still just a glorified flying camera.

It was a key component of Project Overwatch, but there was still so much more we needed for it.

* * *

A/N: Blarg. Not entirely happy with how this just trails off at the end there, but I'm just going to keep going in circles on this if I don't stop.


End file.
